


Such Stuff As Dreams Are Made On

by Melusine10



Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris, True Blood
Genre: AU, Adventure & Romance, F/M, Multi, Vampires, pre-reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-04-18 16:11:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 139,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14216877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melusine10/pseuds/Melusine10
Summary: If only the Great Reveal had happened and the Sookie Stackhouse novels were more than fantasy. Lillian is studying vampire fans in Louisiana when the tourist bar where she's working is attacked. She quickly learns that the bar owner - a man who claims to be Eric Northman - is far more complicated than meets the eye. As she's drawn into this dark and dangerous new world, it's not just her career that will be on the line. AU. Pre-reveal. Rated M. Eric/OC/Godric, plus Pam and more! Happy Reading!





	1. Welcome to Shreveport

**Author's Note:**

> NB: I own nothing except the research concept and the original characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Please note that the first few chapters introduce our heroine and set in motion events which get intriguing when a certain Mr. Northman appears in Ch. 3 and go full on haywire by Ch. 4. In other words, stick with this story for a couple chapters. I promise you won't be disappointed!

The alarm clock next to the hotel bed let out its angry beep far too soon. Lillian forced open her eyes and looked at the large red digital numbers – 12:00….AM. Slapping the obnoxious machine off, she threw off the covers and began to madly rush between the closet and the bathroom. With only three hours of sleep, this was going to be a long night. She slipped into the violet dress she’d set aside and ran back to the mirror to double check her makeup. She smudged the smoky black powder around her hazel eyes just a tad more and hoped it didn't smear all over the place and make her look ridiculous _._  On second thought, she might look more authentically 'goth'.She giggled aloud at her own joke.

Lillian was most certainly not shooting for angst-riddled, black-clad, fake-id carrying teen. No. This was decidedly _not_  her usual lifestyle. In fact, she struggled to remember the last time she’d dressed up to go to a club. As a grad student maybe?  No. Too poor and married to her books. She was more of a pitcher of beer at the pub with good friends type. Now as a young professor, she was overworked and still had no social life, despite the respectable salary. She'd bid farewell to her twenties last year. At least this latest research project was a good excuse to pretend she still had a bit of excitement left. Glancing at the clock again, she wiggled her feet into some impressively high silver mules and checked the mirror once more. "Oh for god's sake," she muttered to herself, realizing that she had absentmindedly grabbed her briefcase.She dumped the contents onto her floor and dug around in her suitcase until she found a black leather hobo with long leather tassels. It was a little worse for the wear, but that counted as vintage, no? She quickly stuffed it with a pile of pens, notebooks, and a voice recorder.    

From the hotel, it was a short drive into Shreveport. She ignored her nerves by forcing herself to pay attention to the lush nighttime scenery. Live oaks swathed in Spanish moss seemed to caricature the humid air, making everything seem slower and heavier. Tucked here and there were weathered clapboard buildings – some seemed to still be businesses in the daytime, others were boarded up in plywood, having succumbed to the economic downturn. She loved the decadence of southern decay. It somehow always seemed so brazen and unapologetic. Elsewhere in the U.S., people seemed overly preoccupied with tidying up the natural decline of things. In the New England college town where she worked, new paint and shiny glass and perfect concrete were routinely plastered on every surface, denying the passage of time. This landscape felt as though she were settling into a well-loved chair. It embraced her with its familiar imperfections. 

Not that she knew actually this place. Hell, she had only arrived a few days ago. But exploring unfamiliar worlds was her specialty. As an anthropologist she was well traveled and no worse for the wear. During her doctoral work she lived on a small Pacific island studying cloth exchanges among women. How hard could a vampire theme club in Louisiana be? Her colleagues had their doubts. They had seriously balked and snickered at her latest idea.  In fact, she’d made it here by the skin of her teeth.

“You want to do  _what_?!” exclaimed the Dean of Social Sciences, when she had approached him about how she wanted to use her research grant.

“I want to study people who do costume role playing, like live action role players and Trekkies and whatnot.”

“Professor Choate, do you honestly expect me to approve your sabbatical? You can’t be serious.”

“Sir, this is a worthwhile endeavor. It’s an aspect of social life that hasn’t been adequately examined.”

“But Lillian,” interjected the chair of her department “you really need to consider how this will reflect during your tenure hearing. If the work isn’t solid, how will we justify renewing your contract?”

Exasperated, Lillian stared at her colleagues. She was floundering in a sea of disbelief. “ Everyone studies problems!” she exclaimed animatedly. “I want to learn about pleasure! Why do people love dressing up in costume, as fantastical characters? What is so much fun about inhabiting imaginary worlds? Are they really so different from our own?” Yep. Drowning. They stared back at her unblinking. Looking at the floor, she took a breath. She tossed a last ditch effort at them. “We need to take seriously the business of pleasure.” The two leaned in and whispered in low tones.

 _Please let them accept_ , she prayed. _Please don’t can me over this. It is a good project!_

“Listen Lillian, I think it’s clear that we all share some reservations about this…”

“Yes!” interjected her department chair. “Let us not have another 'Nelson debacle'” she cringed.

Nelson was an ill-fated colleague who had tried to study online chat rooms and ended up being busted on one of those nightly news shows for soliciting sex from a minor. “Of course not.” For starters, she wasn't a god damn pervert.  “I’m looking at  _real_  communities in  _real_  space and time, not in the virtual world.  That is why it will work.  There is concrete observational work to be done, actual documentation.”

“Alright,” sighed the Dean.  “Just do this well, okay? Your work reflects on us too, you know.”

“Keep it rigorous,” added the department chair. “No pop science.”

“Absolutely. I know you will be pleased with the findings. And thank you for your generosity and consideration. I really appreciate your support.”

Gack. Kissing her bosses’ asses that hard had really left her feeling bitter. Good thing she was 1000 miles away from her ivory tower. Lillian turned left into a commercial strip and pulled into a parking space. From the car she could already feel the music pumping out of the club. A large neon sign hung above the growing line of people. "Fangtasy" it read in a loopy red script. A tall blond woman stood at the door checking ids - in knee-high stiletto boots. Lillian found her place at the end of the line. The clientele were certainly eclectic. There were vamp kids with dyed black hair and faux-leather clothes waiting impatiently alongside overweight tourists in polos and tennis shoes. Welcome to the weird. The place must be a goldmine.

During her preliminary research, Lillian learned that Fangtasy had opened up a year and a half ago. Inspired by the famous Charlaine Harris novels and the successful HBO television spinoff,  _True Blood_ , everybody and their mother (literally) seemed to visit. The owners had only narrowly skirted a major copyright lawsuit by changing the club name from Fangtasia to Fangtasy.

Lillian reached the front door after a considerable wait. “Evening,” she said and handed her ID to a pale blonde. The woman didn’t respond. The employee must be styled after the "Pam" character. Very clever.

She tilted the ID in the light and passed it back. “You may enter at your own risk,” she said curtly. Lillian's inner child wanted to jump up and down and clap her hands. It was all so wonderfully campy - like Disneyland for freaky folks. Her initial nerves began to give way to sheer, overwhelming curiosity.

Inside the club, dance music throbbed and colorful beams of light spun over the patrons and pulsed in rhythm to the music. Leather and spike bedecked young people crowded the dance floor and mingled around high top tables. Busty blonde waitresses in white shirts and ponytails served trays of drinks. Lillian was absolutely delighted by the ridiculous fake Sookies. Many people seemed to be ordering the "bloody dacquarie" special - a crimson concoction garnished with a bone-shaped plastic toothpick through a lime. Lillian made her way to the bar.

“Hi, can I see the manager?” she called out over the music to the nearest bartender.

The guy snorted and rolled his eyes. “The manager doesn’t deal with guests, ma’am.  What do you need?”

“I wanted to get permission to interview some of the patrons. I am writing about vampire fan culture in America.”

The young guy snorted. “You a reporter?”

“No, I’m a professor of anthropology. Could you please give the manager a call?”

“Boss doesn’t see guests without an appointment.” He leaned across the bar in a confidential whisper. “Too many idiots think they’re gonna meet an  _actual_ vampire. I mean, HELLO! It’s t.v.!!”

Her heart sunk. Did she really come out tonight for nothing? Without the appropriate permissions, she couldn't start working. “Yeah, I’m sure that's a common problem. Let me give you my card.”  She passed a business card over the black lacquered bar and into the guy’s red syrup stained fingers. “How soon can I expect to hear back?”

“I dunno, guess you’ll just have to see.”

“Alright, well at least give me a gin and tonic while I’m waiting.”

She took the drink and found a booth out of the way near the corner. She couldn't even take notes without approval. Contrary to popular belief, social science was extremely serious business. Working with human subjects was highly regulated. For now, she could at least enjoy her drink and soak up first impressions of the atmosphere. The “vampy” club-goers and other young folks stood around island tables talking closely over half-filled bottles and empty glasses. Many people were out on the dance floor grinding and shaking away.  The more touristy types, she noticed, kept mainly to the booths where they sipped their sugary alcohol and plowed through plates of greasy bar food. Or they hung over a large souvenir case, where no less than three employees were busy swiping credit cards and passing back bags stuffed with Fangtasy and official True Blood merchandise. At the center of the back wall, a large carved chair with plush leather and brass tacks sat on a raised platform surrounded by velvet roping. A single spotlight illuminated it rather dramatically. People snapped photos of the empty chair. It was an odd but brilliant mix - decor and staff so over the top it threatened to break the suspension of disbelief. On the other hand, the throne made it seem like maybe, just maybe, a real vampire might just walk in and sit down. Whoever conceived of the club was one hell of a keen businessperson.

The rest of the night was uneventful. Lillian wasn’t inclined to dance, certainly not with the several young men who’d come to her table to ask. They were young enough to be one of her college students. Towards 4am, after her third drink, Lillian decided to call it quits. As she was passing by the bar, the bartender gestured at her.

“Hey lady, uh, I’m sorry, I got caught up with work.  Lemme take you back, boss said he’d see you.”

Lillian stared at him.  “What? Are you...What!? I’ve been waiting here for four hours!” 

“Yah, well, um. Sorry.”

He took her down a hallway, past the bathrooms, and she scowled at the bartender's back the entire way.  Everything was lit with a blacklight, which made the goofy vampire movie posters lining the black wall to pop out colorfully. At the end of the hallway, the kid left her in front of a door where a security guard stood.

“Hi, I’m here to see the manager?”

The big guy pointed at a camera above the door. She looked up and waved. The door buzzed and the guard turned the keypad and punched in a code, releasing the lock. “Go on in,” he said. “First door on the right.” She was alarmed by the heavy security. They must get some majorly obsessed folks in here. She made a mental note to examine that angle. How did the owners and staff perceive their clients? 

The inner hallway stood in sharp contrast to the rest of the club. The floor was clad in light wood and the walls were a pleasant creme color. She rapped on the door twice with her knuckles. “Come in Miss Choate” a voice called out. Inside, she was met by a short man in a navy pin stripe suit. “Hi, hi, hi!” he called out, offering his hand. “Nathan Riley. So sorry to keep you waiting.” The man had a funny air about him – dressed up and slick, but not in a sleezy club manager type way. He struck her as very lawyerly.

“Pleasure to meet you. It is  _Professor_  Choate, by the way. Thanks for agreeing to see me on such short notice.”

“Gladly, gladly. Well, tell me about what it is that brings you here. Some kind of report, is it?”

“Well, no, not exactly.” Lillian launched into her spiel. She tried to keep it simple, avoid the jargon, and made sure to explain that her work was not at all meant to be an exposé on the business or would effect the operation of the club, but simply a study about the clients and why they choose to pursue “costumed” and fantasy recreation. “I should add that I will be more than happy to share any and all resulting publications with you. I expect that the data might be of some interest from a business perspective. It might help you better understand your clientele.”

“Hrm, yes.  Good point.  Well, I’m gonna have to check with the owners, of course,” he said in a thick Louisiana drawl. “But I’ll give you a ring as soon as possible.”

“Alright, Mr. Riley. Who are the owners?” She hadn't been able to find any information on them.

“Oh, well honey,” he said. She gritted her teeth at the “quaint” Southernism. “It’s a consortium of investors. But I wouldn’t worry. There’s no such thing as bad publicity, right? I’ll let you know what they say.”

“Sure thing. Thanks for your time.”

“My pleasure. You have a good night now, ya’hear?”  he replied.

She headed out of the bar and crossed the tungsten light dappled parking lot towards her car. Only a few patrons lingered outside to drunkenly grope each other. Perhaps it was the desolate strip mall or the inky black patches of woods surrounding it at a lonely hour of the night. Or simply the fact that her car was at the edge of the lot. But she had the strangest creeping sensation in the pit of her stomach. She glanced around to see if she was being watched and felt the instinctual impulse to sprint. She didn’t, but she sure as heck walked briskly. It would be just her luck to get mugged. Once in her car, she quickly locked the doors, turned the engine over, and adjusted the rear-view mirror. For a fleeting second, less than a blink, really, Lillian swore she saw someone standing by the dumpsters on the far end of the building, staring in her direction. She blinked again, but there was no one there. It was probably just a busboy taking out the trash. She dismissed her unsettling feeling and started back towards the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you have a moment. Thanks! xx, M


	2. Serve Me Well

Lillian spent the next day wandering the shopping mall in Shreveport. She was trying to keep distracted and pass the time, but to little avail. She repeatedly checked her cellphone. Yes, it was on. No, there weren't any missed calls. Yes, there were four bars of service. No, she was not being overly anxious. Well, okay. Maybe a little. She rolled her eyes at herself. 

By 5pm, she was back in her dingy hotel room. She didn’t bother to lay out clothes for the evening. Why, if she couldn’t work? She must have dozed off in front of the tv, because her phone started ringing and startled her. “Hello?” she said in a croaky voice.

“Dr. Choate, Nathan Riley here. Look, I just got ahold of the owners and they’d like you to come in and talk a bit more with me. But the good news is I think they are going to agree. Can you get over here by 8? They want to videoconference with us before the club opens up.”

“Oh, well sure. But I’ve got my laptop here if we’re going to Skype. Would that be more convenient?”

“Hold on a sec,” he said. The line clicked and went silent. Moments later it clicked again and Mr. Riley returned. “That will work. I’ll set up the conference and ring you in at 8 sharp. What’s your ID?"

She gave him her Skype address. She tidied up the hotel room and rearranged the desk so it faced the balcony, hoping to give a better impression. It wasn't much to work with given the dingy and claustrophobic quarters. She pawed through her closet to find something appropriate to wear. She finally settled on jeans and a dress shirt with a suit jacket – “the professor’s tuxedo” as she fondly thought of it.

Promptly at 8, her computer began ringing. “Hello?” she said, placing the headphones on.

“Hi Dr. Choate. Alright, it looks like we’re good to go.” Mr. Riley popped up on her screen. She could see him fidgeting with the computer, and soon two more dialogue boxes were added. “Investors? Can you hear me?” A male voice and female voice responded in unison, “Yes.”

“Mr. Riley, I can hear everyone just fine. Their video doesn’t seem to be working, however.”

“Yeah, uh, that’s because it’s not enabled. Our investors wish to remain anonymous for the time being, professor.”

She was caught slightly off guard “Oh, uh, certainly.” It was an odd request. She was growing more certain by the minute that this Riley character was definitely a lawyer. It must be all the money involved. They were clearly making green hand over fist and no doubt weren't about to risk another lawsuit. 

“So, first thing’s first,” Riley began. “We wanted to ask you about….”

The meeting took far longer than she’d anticipated. The investors said virtually nothing. It was clear that Mr. Riley had already fielded their exact questions and they simply wanted to watch and listen to her responses to ensure that her work would in no way impact their business. It was entirely reasonable, she thought, if not a bit overdramatic in how they chose to go about it. Only once did one of the ‘black boxes’ on her screen offer to join in on what felt like a deposition. She was trying to explain how her work wouldn’t affect business, and that if anything, people usually liked to talk about themselves and what they do.

A husky male voice interrupted her. “Yes, but how do you propose to  _benefit_  our club?”

Lillian paused momentarily, trying to keep her poker face. Fake it ’til you make it, that was always her motto. “In all likelihood, sir, I expect to gather detailed information about what your patrons do and do not like about the business. I will be able to offer you insight into how your clients interact with various aspects of the club, including the staff, the spatial arrangement of the place, the décor, music, and most importantly, each other.”

The black box responded tersely. “What do you think we do when we ourselves are on the floor?”

Again, she let a beat pass to compose a thoughtful response. “When you are interacting with your clients, do you not do so as an owner? My outsider status affords me a kind of neutrality that, with all due respect, you cannot claim.”

The line was silent for a moment. “Very well,” the voice purred.

After a few more questions from Riley, her work was approved with the additional condition that she provide a monthly report of her activities for review. Lillian clapped shut the computer and squealed in joy (and relief). Few things were as rewarding to her as a big break. Especially when her job hung in the balance.

The next few days were a blur as she settled into a nightly work routine. The clientele were, for the most part, eager to share their experiences and motivations for loving, and living out, vampire culture. Things even got interesting when she’d inadvertently started a heated debate over the “threshold” myth: that is, whether or not a vampire could in fact cross the threshold of a human’s abode without an invitation. Thankfully she was able to get plenty of data  _and_ avoid a full-on fistfight before the bouncers got involved.

This paled, however, to the highlight of the week. It was Friday night and a teen showed up and was refused at the door for having a fake ID. He began shouting insults through the entry way and a bouncer quickly ejected him into the parking lot. It didn’t end there however. He carried on yelling at other patrons, at one point accusing a young woman of “probably liking vampires that sparkle.” Her boyfriend then stepped in and a number of other people hanging around outside starting arguing with the kid, the boyfriend, and then at each other. Apparently the Twilight series was quite the divisive issue. Camps emerged on either side. By that time, three bouncers were manhandling people and the entire thing threatened to boil over into a full-scale shitshow. It would only be minutes before the cops were called. Trying to think on her feet, Lillian raised her voice and hollered, “if you think real vampires don’t sparkle, come with me and you can be in my book! Come on!” The epithets and insults quieted. A number of people waved her off or gave her the finger, but a sizable group of fans ambled over and she lead them back into the bar for more drinks and their promised interview. Crisis averted - with good data too!

Later that night, she returned to her hotel-home and crashed onto the bed, exhausted from the evening’s activities and the adrenaline rush of the near bar brawl. She passed out, fully clothed on top of the covers, and was startled when her cellphone began to ring.

Groping around in her bag, she finally answered it with a groggy and fully annoyed “hello,” not even bothering to open her eyes.

“Good evening Professor Choate,” a husky, velvety voice said on the other end of the line. Her eyes flew open.

“Oh!” she gasped, recognizing the voice. It was one of the Fantasy investors. She tried to roust herself. “Hello, uh…sir. Um…” she blushed, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to call you.”

“Hmm, yes. Apologies. My name is Eric Northman.”

She couldn’t choke back a burst of laughter in time. Sure. Right. Eric Northman. "The" Norseman. The Viking sex god of Harris’ lore. Her fit of undignified giggled was met with an uncomfortable silence.

“I hope your work is coming along satisfactorily thus far.” 

“Oh. Yeah, it’s going quite well. Thank you.”

“How do you find my little establishment?”

“Well…um. It’s truly a clever business model. It seems to run very efficiently. More importantly, your clients love it. You must be thrilled with its success.”

“We are pleased, yes.”

Another stretch of silence. Lillian’s mind raced. Why was this man calling her? He couldn't possibly just want to chitchat at five in the morning. What a nutbar! “So, Mr. Northman...” It was hard not to laugh again at the ridiculous pseudonym. “Um, is there anything in particular you needed?”

“Hmm,” he purred, all too suggestively. “Tonight you delivered on your promise to be of service to me. That was quick thinking, how you diverted those drunken fools. We were lucky not to have the cops show and end up in the morning news. Your effort is appreciated.”

Service to him _?_ Just who did he think he was? “I did promise to not adversely affect your business. It was the least I could do. I got a good set of interviews out of it.”

“Very shrewd of you.

“Has the place been in the news before?”

“Yes, occasionally. This country holds tightly to its Puritan roots. Funny how the devoutest of Christians are the ones who believe the most in witchcraft and the occult.”

“Hm. So not always a good portrayal, I presume?” She made a mental note to check the newspaper archive. 

“No, but that only reinforces its allure.”

“No such thing as bad publicity, so they say. Well, thank you for your call. Is there anything else?” The need to sleep was dragging her back under.

“I merely wanted to check up on you. You are tired. You will adjust to our schedule. I assume your phone has caller ID?”

“Yes, sir.” She was not above a bit of politesse, especially given the weirdness of this call. There was something commanding in his voice that automatically brought out her best manners.

“Then you have my number now. You may call me if you ever have the need. See you tomorrow night, Professor Choate.”

And with that, she heard a click. That was seriously bizarre. Check on her? And what is this business about seeing each other tomorrow? Oh Christ, this project was going to be so much more complicated than it needed to be. She had a flashback to her field year, when she had to negotiate the purchase of three head of cattle – and figure out how to transport them some 50 miles – all to kiss the ass of a petty village chief whose approval she only marginally needed. What does one give to a small business owner in bumfuck Louisiana who apparently is convinced that he’s a nonexistent supernatural being from a fiction novel? She groaned, turned out the lamp, and worked her way under the covers. She would deal with that tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you have a moment. Thanks! xx, M


	3. Looking On Darkness

Tomorrow came too soon. The sun was already casting an orange cotton hue into the sky when she finally woke. Lillian had overslept again! Snapping the tags off a new dress, she gathered her hair up into a pile on her head and was quickly out the door. When she arrived at the club, the music was already thumping with the usual house beats. With a smile and nod at Jimmy, one of the regular bouncers, she passed through the black vinyl doors and was immediately hit with a blast of cold air conditioning and the pounding volume of the music. She sauntered up to the long bar, and leaning over it, hollered “Hey, Longshadow!” to the bartender.

“Sup,” he grunted, reaching under the bar and grabbing an unmarked bottled with a speed pourer. Soon his long, brightly tattooed arm shoved a glass of gin and tonic her direction. She shoved a five dollar bill at him and headed over to her usual table, situated with the widest view of the room. Settling in, she let her eyes take in the house tonight. Arun and his crew were here.She raised her eyebrows to the regulars and gave them a broad smile. A group of Midwestern tourists took up the big booth and a clutch of goth kids filled table nine. Quite a few local college kids were dancing, but they were all distracted and kept checking the giant blond guy on the throne.

Lillian choked on her drink and coughed. The throne was occupied tonight. And not just occupied, but _owned_ by a stunning - a devastatingly gorgeous - man with long, leather-clad legs, gleaming blond hair, and chiseled features. He tapped at an iPhone and appeared to be extraordinarily bored. As if he had heard her, his piercing blue eyes flickered up directly into her stare. He smiled ever so slightly and nodded, going back to tapping at his phone.

A chill crawled up her spine to the base of her skull. She had assumed that they probably hired an actor to occupy the stage at some point. But this guy was unreal. With his supermodel looks, he had to cost a fair fortune. It didn't make sense. Why wouldn't they have advertised if this was a special occasion? It was just a regular Saturday night in Shreveport. She pulled out her Moleskine notebook and began scribbling down her observations. Everything was data, after all. She also wanted to sketch out a set of clear questions for the owner she had spoken with, whenever he came in. Privately, she hoped tonight would be one of those really rich ethnographic encounters, but if this fellow was as weird as he seemed, it might well be excruciating.

She was lost in her thoughts when the ‘Pam’ character that she’d seen a few times cleared her throat at the foot of the table. “Oh, hi!” Lillian said, closing her notebook. 

“The master would like you to join him now,” she said curtly, gesturing with a nod towards the stage.

“Um.” Lillian's eyes darted to the throne and she tried not to panic. She hadn't come here to role play but she needed an excuse and quick. Her mind raced to find something, anything plausible. The actor gestured at her with a subtle flick of his hand. Fuck. Pam stood impatiently, a hand on her hip. “Sure, why not,” Lillian managed feebly.

“Another G&T for you?” the woman asked.

“Uh yeah, that’d be great. Oh, but I don’t have a tab started.” She reached into her bag for a credit card. "Pam" raised her eyebrow with a quizzical smirk and refused the card. They walked to the stage area and Lillian took a deep, calming breath, readying herself for whatever weirdness was about to happen. “Good evening. You must be 'the Master',” she said, trying not to sound too sarcastic. Smarmy and superior was not a very endearing way to approach one’s informants.

“Yes, but you may call me Eric,” said the man in the smokiest, most seductive voice Lillian had ever heard, with the sole exception of her caller from last nig…oh…shit. Her eyes must have visibly widened.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Professor Choate.”

Entirely rattled and feeling extra unprepared, she poured on a smile. “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Northman.”

His eyes pierced through her, unwavering. “Call me Eric.” His words virtually dripped in sex.

“You don’t mind? I'll admit that I'd feel silly calling anybody 'Master anything'.”

A snaking smile drew out across his obscenely perfect features. Lillian’s breath caught in her throat. “You merit…an exception” he said casually, letting just the hint of the tip of his tongue roll over his bottom lip.

“Well, please feel free to call me Lillian.”

“You have met the other owner, but I don’t believe you have been properly introduced. This is Pamela Swynford de Beaufort.” Pam looked Lillian up and down and smiled.

“Charmed.” Pam said sarcastically. Then she glanced back at Eric and spoke rapidly to him in what Lillian could only presume was some Scandinavian language. The slight smile dropped from Eric’s face. “ _Vad_!?” he hissed. He barked something angrily at her and then his hawk eyes settled on the bar. He narrowed his gaze as if to crush the bartender with its very casting. Without missing a beat, he smoothly turned back to Lillian, once again all charm. “Sit with me Lillian.” The sound of her name in his mouth sent a shiver through her. The room suddenly felt hot and her stomach felt tight. She sat hesitantly in the slightly smaller, lower chair to his right.

“Longshadow will be returning the money he has stolen from you.”

“I beg your pardon?” she said, confused.

“Your drinks, and anything else you order, are always on the house, at my express wish. Apparently the fool thought he could get away with not telling you as much and keeping the money you were paying all for himself.” His face was impassive, unreadable.

“Oh, gosh. Well, that’s really okay, I didn’t know any better. I’m sure he’ll remember next time.”

He snorted, unamused. “Not in my house.” He continued to bore holes at his employee with his glare. Lillian gulped. She saw Pam escort Longshadow away from the bar.

“No second chances here, I see,” she said. Another hint of a smile slithered across his sensuous mouth. How could someone be at once imposing to the point of being terrifying and unfathomably sexy all at once? He was like a tripwire to rational thought. Pam returned with her drink and headed back to manage the bar. “So, how long have you two been…partners?” she said, hoping by asking less he might offer more.

“Pam and I have worked together off and on for many years. We are not lovers, if that is your meaning.”

"Do you come in to play this role often? You certainly look the part.” She chuckled. “I actually thought you were an actor.”

“We work the floor now and again. Enough to keep the plebes satisfied. And I am very much The Part, as you say.” His eyes wandered over her, flitting from her firm tan calves, over her tight waist, to her blue-green eyes.

She bit the inside of her cheek to stop the blush from rising to her face. Of course he was as arrogant as he was beautiful. It wasn't lost on her that he phrased everything as an order, as if the world turned by his grace alone. "What drew you to this business plan?”

“Well, I figured I might as well capitalize on what I started.”

Lillian furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

He looked at her with amusement. “I inspired Charlaine’s books. They’ve been remarkably successful, as I'm sure you know.” He paused in thought, then added heatedly, “They had the audacity to tell me that I don’t have intellectual property rights to myself…to my self! That was all I needed. I began applying for the necessary licenses the very next day.”

“Could you tell me more about that? How did you come to be the inspiration of Ms. Harris’ books?” she asked as positively as possible. Either he really had a story or he had a serious mental health issue.

“I was attending to some business in New Orleans. Harris was there in the same hotel at an authors' conference. She entered our meeting room by accident, and when I escorted her out, she seemed convinced that our gathering appeared like a group of vampires conducting a trial.”

“Wild,” Lillian replied, relieved. 

“In the following days, she kept trying to catch me in the lobby, saying how she was so inspired by our run-in and how she’d love to write a book based on it. It was truly exasperating. I finally threw her a few storyline ideas just to be rid of her. A year later I saw the first of her vampire series in the window of a bookstore.”

“Huh. Well, I can see how you’d feel a bit…violated by all that.” Her eyes narrowed. “So Pamela was at this meeting too?” She was featured in the books as a co-owner.

Eric raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Not much escapes you, does it.” He offered nothing more.

“Any of the other characters have real inspirations? Was there a large breasted barmaid with you at your meeting? Or are there no telepaths, faeries, or goblins?”

Eric smiled under hooded eyes. “Oh, there is magic in this world. Just not the tawdry little stories you’ll read in pulp fiction.”

“Oh?" she said. "What can you tell me about magic then?”

Eric placed a cool, long-fingered hand on Lillian’s knee and leaned in towards her. “Perhaps I will tell you one night, my lovely Lila,” he breathed, filling the air with an intoxicating scent. The air caught in Lillian’s throat. He smelled faintly of hickory, sea salt, and something crisp, like the air right before it snows. Mesmerized, Lillian glanced around the bar for a distraction. Everything about the man was refined and measured. She was captivated.

“You know, your clients are staring daggers at me. Being up here might not be the best for my work.”

He laughed softly. “The ‘fangbangers’ are jealous I have honored you by inviting you up here to entertain me. But it will only make them want to talk to you more.”

“It’s not so clear to me who’s entertaining whom.”

He raised an eyebrow. “This is work. It is boring, but necessary. Plus, I multitask,” he said, picking up his phone and waving it.

“Am I boring you, Mr. Northman?” she taunted, rather enjoying the repartee.

The curves of his lips curved in an almost imperceptible smile. “It’s Eric. And no.”

“This whole place is an effective illusion,” she offered.

“In a number of ways.” A moment passed as she considered this. “I read your dissertation. This project is quite a departure for you.”

Lillian choked on her sip of gin and tonic. “Oh god!” she sputtered. “That’s incredibly embarrassing. Why didn’t you look as some of my articles instead?”

“I did. I read everything.”

“Well, then.” She sucked in a deep breath of air. “You know I studied cloth exchange as a medium for social reproduction. Most of that work was looking at age hierarchies. This isn't such a departure. My interest here lies with how people try to inhabit or play with the idea of immortality, and what kinds of material culture they perceive as necessary for producing it."

"I did receive your official research proposal," he teased.

"Well then you'll understand when I say that classic anthropological theory tells us that play is never just play. I think there is a lot about contemporary social life that can be gleaned from how people imagine the non-human or the undead. I take it very seriously.”

"Dead serious, one might say." His playful, piercing gaze absorbed her, then he looked away, lost in a thought. He spoke quietly then:

“Looking on darkness which the blind do see:  
Save that my soul’s imaginary sight  
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,  
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,  
Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.”

Lillian laughed softly. “Ah, Shakespeare did understand humanity’s ripe imagination.” She blushed, recalling that the sonnet wasn’t just about people’s imaginations, but how one is kept up all night dreaming about a lover. Did he mean himself or her? Or was the ambiguity his point? Well, two could play at double-entendres. What an insufferable flirt! There was nothing worse than a man who new damn well he was gorgeous.

“Indeed, Eric, ‘All the world is a stage, and all the men and women merely  _players_ ,” she paused, hoping to let that sink in. “'They make their exits and entrances, and one man in his time plays many  _parts'_.”

Eric threw his head back and laughed a deep howl.  _” ‘_ Sblood, do you think I am easier to be played on than a pipe?'”

“Never!” She shot a sarcastic look at him and took a long swig of her drink.

The two sat on the dais, shaking with laughter. Had she actually just suggested that the owner of the business she was researching was a big 'ole man whore? Yep, that was her. Classy. At least he seemed to appreciate a good joke. She grew more sedate when she realized just how many people on the floor had stopped what they were doing and were staring at them. Rather hatefully, she thought. Suddenly pink in the cheeks with self-consciousness, she fiddled with the hem of her skirt to avoid the glares. Being the center of attention was never her strong suit. Thankfully Pam sidled up and whispered something in Eric’s ear. His smile fell.

“I have thoroughly enjoyed meeting you tonight. Unfortunately, I have a call I must take and Pam has reminded me there’s work piling up. My apologies for leaving you so abruptly. We shall meet again soon.” He rose to stand, all 6’4″ of him towering over her, and gave a slight bow, leaving her. Lillian wasted no time getting out of the spotlight and back into her preferred shadowy booth in the back of the club.

When she later slid into the cool sheets of her bed that night, dawn had nearly broken on the horizon. She heard the sleepy early morning sounds start to wake the world – the chattering of a blue jay and the coos of a mourning dove. Her body was exhausted. After a week she still wasn’t adjusted to her nighttime schedule. Her mind was still busy, and as her fatigue washed over her and began to pull her down into the heaviness of sleep, the image of ice blue eyes kept circling in her head. That and a line. “Looking on darkness which the blind do see.” The words echoed repeatedly until she was fast asleep.

Over the next several nights, Lillian arrived at the club and eagerly checked the club’s throne, hoping to have the same cold thrill she had that first night when she first saw Eric presiding over his dark, thrumming little business. But nights passed without seeing him again, or Pam for that matter. Not that the other staff were unfriendly or uninteresting. Lillian’s work plodded along and the pages in her notebooks filled. Then nights turned into weeks. Her interviews with the club-goers started to feel repetitive, and her conversations grew circular and predictable. Her old adviser once told her that the moment that you knew what to expect from a line of questioning, you should start asking different questions, change tactics, or else move on to a different phase of the research. She was grateful that the project hadn’t entirely stalled out. At three weeks into the trip, she needed to start working on her first report to the owners. But thinking of the owners only highlighted their absence, and her thoughts drifted back to a certain someone’s long, muscular frame and his heady, seductive charm. She’d thought of stopping by Mr. Riley’s office to inquire, or perhaps even calling Eric herself, since he did give her his number. But then, she really had no excuse for ringing and she didn’t want to have an awkward conversation. He was probably just busy.

Catching herself staring at the throne again, Lillian slid out and installed herself on the opposite side of her usual booth so that she now had a view of the black wall next to the main door. Nothing to see there. The bench on this side was less comfortable, probably owing to the fact that everyone wanted to sit facing the other way, if not for the stage, then to enjoy the writhing bodies on the dance floor. Sighing to herself, she turned her notebook to a fresh page and started outlining the main points of her report. These were always tricky, since you didn’t really know what conclusions you had until you analyzed your data. And yet you were supposed to say something about how productive it had all been, blah blah blah. It was unsettling to make blind conjectures based on gut feelings. Nevertheless, she set to it until the yellow page was nearly full of neat bulletin points. Unable to come up with anything more, her mind started to wander and her writing wandered off into curly-cue doodles that arched and slithered around the margins of the paper. At half past two, she let a rather embarrassingly large yawn escape and she realized how tired she felt. Nothing would come of this evening. Somewhere in her bag, she heard her phone vibrate. At this hour, it was probably just an email from some student wanting a last-minute letter of recommendation or a grade change from god knows how many semesters ago. She ignored it, focusing instead on filling in the lines of a rather elaborate rendition of the  _vegvesir_ , or Norse compass, at the top of the page. Maybe she should just pack up and call it a night. Moments later, her hobo bag buzzed again. Agitated, she dug around in the jumbled contents and pulled the phone out. To her surprise, she had two texts from a certain Eric Northman.

_Are you really as bored as you look?_

_Hmm? Or you’ve decided quit work and fulfill your dream of being an artist?_

Lillian felt her cheeks immediately flush with heat. How the hell could he know what she was doing?! She whipped around, and lo and behold, there Eric sat on the dais, as though he’d never left the spot. He'd resumed the position she’d first seen him in – fiddling with his phone and looking imposing. Her heart skipped a beat. Eric was texting her from the stage. He didn’t look up, but she saw him smile, ever so slightly, as though he’d seen her in his peripheral vision. But that was impossible - she was at least 30 yards away. Turning back around and sinking in the booth’s seat, she blinked several times, as though his bright image had burned itself into her retinas. Eric was wearing the same skin-tight leather pants and what looked like a Fall season Rodarte sweater - an unstructured black knit with nothing underneath the open, messy loops. The garment, if you could even call it that, was entirely see-through. The broad, creamy expanses of hard skin peeking through turned her cheeks pink. She twisted the phone sideways to activate the bigger Qwerty keyboard and panicking over what to say, was unsure why she suddenly felt like an awkward tween.

 _'Bored? I could ask the same. That why you ran off?'_ she replied.

_'No. Business called. Miss me?'_

She tried to play it coolly. ' _Your clients did. They told me. :) '_

Her phone again vibrated immediately. 'I _didn’t ask about them...Answer or I’ll summon you up here '_

_'Mercy! Anything but that'_

' _Anything….?'_

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance at the suggestive remark. She wasn’t about to let her work get turned upside down simply over a pair of tight pants and a couple witty remarks. ' _You’re burning up my data plan.'_

' _Apologies mademoiselle.'_

She set the phone down and returned to her notebook, determined to brainstorm more for her outline. No sooner had she resumed writing, she received yet another text. ' _Follow me.'_ Lillian craned her neck around in time to see Eric saunter off the stage and disappear down the back hallway. "Damn him," she muttered. She was caught in a double bind and the bastard knew it. She couldn't risk offending him and so she resigned herself to following along, hoping something useful would come out of his game. Lillian felt a little like Alice and Fangtasy was her own Wonderland, the land of the deeply weird. She huffed, then typed back. ' _Down the rabbit hole!'_

She scraped together her materials off the table and dumped them in her bag, but decided to make Eric wait a couple minutes, just to be a pill. The phone buzzed again. ' _Not even a little ‘curiouser and curiouser’?'_ the message read.

Sighing, she stood up and weaved her way around the edges of the dance floor and headed down the hallway. The blacklit corridor highlighted the fuzz all over her black pants and she brushed at it futilely while walking. On her left were doors to the bathrooms, and further down a heavy metal door that must be storage. The first office on the right she knew was Mr. Riley’s, so the second must be…the door was cracked ajar. She paused, noting the same camera and keypad security system. Lillian rapped lightly on the door and pushed it open without waiting for a response.

“You should be more careful with your security, Mr. Northman. You never know who might wander in,” she quipped. She was about to add to her snarky comment, but the air caught in her throat at sight of the room. It was a stark contrast to Mr. Riley’s drab office, not to mention the horror kitsch of the club. Both the floor and ceiling were a light wood, and the ceiling itself had been raised to expose the structure’s steel beams. Eric sat behind a beautiful desk, his boots kicked up on the edge. It was a solid piece of wood, with wide minimalist steel legs. Behind him sat a modernist cube bookshelf spread across the entirety of a pale moss-colored wall. It was filled with books and numerous objets d’art. The room was lovely and airy, full of soft filtered light. It reminded her of a forest.

“You were saying, Professor?” a smile weaved across his lips. He gestured to the square black leather chair opposite the desk.

She sat automatically, still speechless. “I’ve got to get the number of your decorator, this…this is unbelievable! It makes me want to never go back to my horrid little hole of an office!”

He chuckled and his eyes sparkled. That unearthly smile might be Lillian's undoing. “You already have it. I designed and built this myself.” Unable to stop herself, she reached out and ran her hand along the edge of the desk.

“This is spectacular. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Reclaimed ash from my homeland. The rest of this tree was made into a ship.” He looked at it wistfully, then quietly added, “this is all that is left of it.”

“Where are you from originally?”

“Sverige, or as you say, Sweden.”

“Ah, so you are indeed a Viking, ship and all,” she teased. “But you hardly have an accent.”

“True. I left a long time ago.” He offered nothing more.

“It’s amazingly quiet in here, you must have done a hell of a soundproofing job in the walls.”

“There is only so much Rihanna one man can take.”

She laughed and tried to focus on the bookshelves instead of the gorgeous chest peeking through his sweater.

“So, to what do I owe the honor of an audience? Or are you just shirking your duties?”

“I could say the same. Although, I must say, your rendering of the  _vegvesir_  was quite impressive.”

She flushed. “How did…you couldn’t have seen that from…” she stammered, horrified at how juvenile she felt.

He tapped his phone. “I told you. I multitask. There are cameras throughout the club. I can monitor virtually every corner of my business from a CC feed directly on my phone.”

Lillian was still trying to recover. “Isn’t that a little overboard? I mean…”

“We take security very seriously here, my lovely Lila.” He pronounced it ‘lee-la.’

“I guess so.” She tried to ignore his pet name for her. Her Swedish was limited to a few phrases, but she thought 'Lila' meant purple. Unconsciously her hand went up to her lavender scarf. “Crazed fans thinking they’ll actually meet a vampire or what?”

“Yes, sometimes that. We try to stem their disappointment by selling them our merchandise. Which reminds me, Pamela and I are developing a new calendar concept. Would you care to have a preview?”

“Oh. Sure!” She pulled out her notebook and a pen, happy to get a behind the scenes view into the business. Eric spun towards the bookshelf and pulled a thick file from an Ikea storage box. He eyed the notebook, ensuring that she was ready. “Each month will feature a staff member. Now, Pamela likes this shot of herself…” he pulled out a glossy 5×8 photo and set it in front of her. Lillian raised an eyebrow. Pam was dress in little more than a black leather jacket and stilettos, straddling a Ducati motorcycle. Her bosom was prominently hiked up and on display and she gave the camera a come-hither gaze.

“Hot,” she quipped, picking the image up. Eric pulled out another sheet and set it on the desk. “I keep telling her this one is better. Which do you prefer?” In the second photo, Pam was splayed out on the hood of a matte black Ferrari, the same one she’d seen earlier in the parking lot. This time she sported a black leather and lace corset.

Lillian laughed. “This one is certainly more suggestive, but her boobs do look great in the other!”

Eric growled. “Dammit, that’s exactly what she said. She scratched the hood of my fucking car with her stiletto doing that shot. The  _least_ she could do is make it worth the trouble by letting me use the picture!”

“Aww!” she faked sympathy. “Such troublesome first world problems…”

He shot a glare at her. “Well, since we fired Longshadow, we do need a replacement for September. Maybe you care to fill in…”

“Oh no, mister! There’s no way!”

“Come on, I’m sure Pam would let you borrow a few outfits. Or maybe you’re just shy of strangers? I’m quite an accomplished photographer, you know. I’d be happy to take them myself,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

Lillian threw up her hands in defense. She could just picture herself spread-eagle out on that preposterous sportscar, Eric standing over her. Her cheeks couldn't get any redder with where that line of thinking was taking her.

“No? Think it over.” He sighed, flipping through the file before him. “Longshadow really is an ugly motherfucker. What a godsend to have him out of my sight. I’ve been looking for an excuse to fire him for ages. If only I could forget ever having seen these.” He chucked a stack of pictures to the side.

"Oh dear," Lillian said. The shots involved a leather vest and a significant amount of chest hair, like the Village People gone horribly wrong.

Digging through more images, Eric paused. “Now  _here’s_  a handsome devil. Help me decide. January is such a  _hard_  month. You don’t really want to overplay the winter theme.” He started setting out more pictures in front of her.

“Oh Christ!” she blurted out, then clapped her mouth. The first few were various photos of Eric in front of a fireplace. Strategically placed limbs and a fur rug left little to the imagination. He placed more down. In the second set he was covered – partially – in what appeared to be snow. Placing a hand over them, if only to cover what she was seeing, she steadied herself and looked at the bookshelf.

“Well?” he inquired impatiently. The naughty glint in his eyes was not lost on her.

“I…” she stammered. “I suppose…I suppose there  _can_ be too much of a good thing. A bit over the top, no? Plus the fireplace…it’s so…”

“Stereotypical?” he interjected.

“I was going to say tacky. And also incongruous. If the others are all ‘vamp and leather,’ shouldn’t yours be too?”

“Ah.” He leaned back in his chair, appearing to mull over a thought. Shrugging, he gathered up the photos and, gathering them with another stack still unseen, tapped them together neatly and slipped them into a manila folder. “Here, perhaps you can review the rest and let me know if there are any that might do. I’d appreciate if you’d give me detailed notes on them explaining your…rational behind the selection,” he smiled innocently, nodding at her little book. Lillian tucked the folder away. “Of course it goes without saying that they are for your eyes only.”

“Of course,” she replied, wondering just how many kicks he was getting from giving her a stack of sexy pictures of himself. She tried to quash the inner voice wondering just how many kicks she would get too. Detailed notes…the gall! Refocusing, she let her eyes wander over the objects on her shelves.

“You’re quite the collector. Is that Lenca pottery?” She pointed to a terracotta vase with brown swirls.

“Yes. I spent some time in Honduras.”

“And so many rare books. I’m surprised you would keep them here.”

He shrugged noncommittally. “These are mostly less valuable editions or desk copies. I keep my finest ones elsewhere.”

“May I?” she stood.

“Of course.”

Stepping around the desk, she squatted down to get a closer look. Eric sat watching her hover her fingers over the spines of the texts. She paused over one, then gasped and sat back on her heels. “You keep first editions of Jane Austen as your  _desk copies_?!”

He laughed. “Trifles and diversions,  _min framtida älskare_.”

“Your what? You know, I don’t speak much Swedish beyond  _hej_ and  _ja_.”

“Look it up!” he said mischievously.

Lillian was about to respond when she spotted something on the other side of the wall. She squeezed behind Eric’s chair and stood on tippy toes. “This is…No, it can’t be” she said, in confusion. “Can it?” A crude little bronze horse, green with age, stood with one leg raised. A rider sat on its back an arm in the air. It looked like the warrior once held something, but it had long since broken.

Eric stood and came behind her. He casually plucked it off the shelf and plopped it in her hands.

She looked at it more closely. “Oh, of course. Reproduction. The devil is always in the details.” Pointing at the figure’s head, she showed him. “The artist completely botched the helmet. Etruscan eye guards were pointed and open, not rounded and closed. That’s much more typical of -”

“ - a northern European style. Yes,” Eric said, finishing her thought.

“Yes, I mean,” she huffed a laugh, “if archaeologists ever found something like that it would be groundbreaking. Evidence of contact between Nordic traders in Italy? What, some two centuries before Roman contact? That’s well before the Viking age.” She flipped it around, looking for an artist's mark or production stamp.

“I know,” Eric said. “Which is why you should be careful with it.”

“Pshhht. Right.”

“Right,” he echoed.

Lillian was half-listening, still inspecting the statue. There weren't any maker's impressions. “Wait, what was that?”

“I said you should be more careful with something so wholly unique.”

Lillian’s smile turned into a look of horror. “What? No, it's not real..." Eric nodded, hands deep in his pockets. "What!? It’s…it’s  _real_!? Holy shit! Eric! Get it out of my hands!” She was terrified to move. “Take it!” she squealed. He laughed and set it back on the shelf. “Where...How...” 

He shrugged. “I found it when I was a boy helping my father till the soil. I used to play with it as a child. It’s a shame we didn’t know it was valuable. I broke his little sword off,” he said ruefully.

Lillian just gaped. “And here I thought I was lucky to have had Legos.” Eric threw his head back and howled with laughter. Who was this man? A set of contradictions, that’s what: trashy club owner but a design genius, worldly charm and yet obnoxiously flashy (hello, a Ferrari?), sophisticated in his tastes yet shows a woman he barely knows near-nude photos of himself. Which reminded her of the packet currently burning a hole in her bag. And did he just say he was a farmer’s son?

“Eric, if you ever want to show that to someone and start a real stink with historians, I can certainly put you into contact with the right people. I mean, I’m no expert, but this is really important. Why keep it all to yourself?”

“And let someone take my toy?” he pouted, then winked.

Lillian glanced at her watch. “Jeez, Pam is probably going to come back here and kick my ass for distracting you from work for so long. I should get going.”

“Pamela may be co-owner, but  _I_ am the boss.”

“Certainly. Got it. You wear the leather pants around here.”

He leaned in uncomfortably close to her and whispered “You like?”

“Eric…” his heady aroma was divine. “It is getting late. I should go.”

“So soon?” He gave her sweet puppy dog eyes, and reaching up, playfully fingered a strand of golden brown hair framing her face.

“Yeah, I really am bushed. I'm going to head home.”

“Home? You couldn’t possibly mean that vile hotel.”

“Eric!”

“Well, it is!”

“Sure, but it’s all I’ve got for the moment. The university made the arrangements. They have some deal with the chain, I guess.”

Eric grunted, unwilling to accept this as an answer. “I shall see you out, then, if you insist on leaving me.”

“Fine.” Lillian picked up her bag and slung it over one shoulder. Eric opened the office door, bowing slightly and gesturing the way. Leaving his little sanctuary of an office, she was rudely awakened by the gharish blacklights and thumping music in the club. She started back towards the main floor, but heard Eric clear his throat.

“Back door.”

“Ah,” she exhaled, “your escape hatch.” Eric ushered her out into the parking lot to her car. Once she was settled into the vehicle and had turned the engine over, she rolled down the window. “Shall I see you tomorrow, or will you disappear on me again?” she said, feeling sheepish for even asking.

“I should be in my office around 11. I won’t be on the floor.”

“Okay.” She felt awkward, like the moment before ending a date. But of course this wasn’t a date, she was working, and this man was an informant, not a lover.”

“Until then,  _min framtida älskare_. Remember your homework!” With that he pushed off the windowsill of the car and swaggered back to towards the back door. Her homework? Ah yes, look up just what the devil he was saying to her. Now if she could only remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you have a moment. Thanks! xx, M


	4. A Turn of Events

The next morning Lillian couldn’t believe she’d slept in until nearly 2pm. She really needed the daytime to run errands. Her stash of coffee beans was seriously depleted and these days it was her primary fuel. She slipped into some jeans and a t-shirt and headed down to the lobby. It was quiet this afternoon. Pausing to dig around in her bag for her car keys, the concierge popped around from the back. He must have been stealing a quick lunch break, because there were crumbs all down his uniform. “Mmm Hhhoate” Strike that. His mouth was stuffed with sandwich! Swallowing, he apologized, turning red. “Ms. Choate, I’m so sorry. You’ve got a message here. I didn’t want to disturb you this morning, your late hours and all.

“Thanks, Ben, enjoy the rest of your lunch.” She took the large envelope from him and eyed it curiously. Who in the world could this be from? Once in her car, she examined the script on the package. It was a looping, elegant hand. She’d seen writing like this before working in the archives, but she didn’t know anyone still had such impressive penmanship. She traced the loops of her name with a finger. Flipping it over, something rattled inside. Now her curiosity was truly sparked. Breaking the seal, she pulled out a single sheet of very expensive looking cotton paper. With the light pouring through the windshield, she noted immediately that the paper was watermarked with a seal with a broadsword in the middle.

_Lillian,_

_I have enjoyed our conversations and I look forward to more. As you will be here another two months, it would please me to know that my anthropologist was in more comfortable quarters. Herein are the keys to one of my properties. It is ready to be moved into and should have everything you need, but let me know if there’s anything additional you might want and I’ll see it is arranged. Until tonight,_

_E_

_P.S. Did you do your homework?_

Lillian sat back in the car seat dumbfounded. Yes, she  _had_ done her homework, thank you very much. Just the thought made her flush. Last night she’d stayed up an extra half hour dorking around with the spelling in Google translate until it offered a suggested phrase that made any sense. She still hadn’t recovered from his audacity. He’d been calling her his future lover! The nerve. And in his so unsubtle but very cleverly manipulative way, he’d given her a packet of absurdly hot photographs of himself just in case the point wasn’t driven home.

And now this. Did he just offer her an apartment to stay in? She shook out the keys from the envelope. The address was on the fob. If she was going to be honest with herself, she really had no idea how to handle this. On the one hand, she had a very strict policy of not sleeping with people she was researching, but the more she rebuffed Eric, the more he seemed to double down in his pursuit. On the other hand, you’d have to be blind, insane, or both to not appreciate that he was a big tall stack’a sexy. It was true that she was really cramped in the hotel, especially given that the small table in the corner had to serve as both desk and dining room table. She was constantly shifting her piles of articles and books and notes. The thought of something even a little more spacious was tempting. Maybe she could just go look at the place to be polite and then decline. She’d never accepted audacious gifts from men and she wasn’t about to start.

She tapped the address into her phone’s GPS. She followed the annoying Android lady’s voice directions, winding through several rather pretty stretches of road. She hadn’t been out to this area of Shreveport. It was quite lovely. Making a right turn, she stopped. Crap, she must have fudged the directions. She was at the gatehouse of a private neighborhood. The guard stepped out and waved with a friendly smile.

“Dr. Choate? I’ve been expecting you. Mr. Riley called and asked me to show the house. My name’s George, at your service ma’am.”

_The HOUSE?!_

“Okay…” Lillian had figured maybe Eric had an empty unit in rental apartment complex or something. She certainly didn’t expect this.

“Follow me.” He punched a button back inside the little station and then hopped into an electric golf cart, waving at her to stick close behind.

The neighborhood was heavily forested and the homes were large and spread out. The plots for each house must have been several acres apiece. The golf cart swung into a nearly invisible driveway and Lillian followed along under the canopy of green trees. This place was set far from the main road. Then she saw it. The house emerged out of the landscape, but almost seemed to be made of it. The garage occupied the ground floor and above it sat the main living quarters. Long thin polished beams of wood were broken up by large sections of curtain glass, revealing simple modern furniture in the interior. The yard around the house was mostly left natural, save for a few sections near the garage and entryway which had various species of ferns. The entire feel was organic, nothing fussy or heavy handed (like some of the absurd Grecian column monstrosities she’d seen up the road). The distinct architectural sensibility was unmistakable. Eric must have built it.

The moment she stepped inside, Lillian felt her resolve to stay in her dingy hotel leap out of her head and skip off gleefully. The place was gorgeous. The interior design used a blend of natural materials – wood, wool flokati rugs, potted orchids in splashy purple shades – to perfectly balance what would otherwise be the harsh lines of modern design.

“Nice huh?” She’d completely forgotten the guard. “Mr. Riley said there’s a letter for you in the kitchen. The alarm system is here by the front door. If you need anything, press 1 and it will call me directly in the gatehouse. We’re real happy to have you here. This place has been empty for too long, I always thought it was a shame. It’s the jewel in this neighborhood if you ask me.”

“Thanks, George. If you don’t mind, how long has it been vacant?”

“Oh, I’d say a couple of years. Mr. Riley’s boss lived here until he built further out in the country. Couldn’t say where though. Can’t imagine a prettier place. You’re sure are a lucky lady. He must have had 20 people out here last night sprucing it back up.” George excused himself then and zipped back down the pathway in his cart. Lillian found the letter he’d mentioned sitting on the large granite island in the kitchen. It was addressed in the same lovely cursive.

_Lillian,_

_Welcome to your new home away from home. I hope you are comfortable here._

_E_

_P.S. Enclosed is a gift for your new library. I apologise that I could not stock it more fully._

She smiled, charmed at his attention to detail. There was nothing more thoughtful than a man who listened carefully to a woman’s preferences. She certainly loved books. Lillian pulled out the packet from the envelope. Something else clattered on the counter. A set of keys. She turned her attention to the package. It was wrapped in simple brown paper and tied with twine. She pulled at the bow and folded back the paper – and then she nearly passed out. Not metaphorically. Literally. She felt gravity lose its hold and her knees nearly went out from under her.

In her hands was an original folio of Shakespeare’s sonnets. She trembled and dared not even breathe as she set the parcel down on the table. This…this was practically priceless. Okay, the house – she had managed to talk herself into accepting that. After all, it was like housesitting, right? It was just standing here unoccupied. But something this valuable? She didn’t even want to think of how Eric had come by it. Just what kind of business man was he? A seriously dubious one, no doubt. She didn’t even know where to put it. In the end, she decided that the safest place would be to hide it in plain sight. Right there on the countertop, in an innocuous manila envelope. Which reminded her again of the sonnet Eric had quoted the first time she’d met him in person.  _Looking on darkness which the blind do see._ Something niggled in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t place her finger on it.

The rest of the afternoon, Lillian acquainted herself with the place. She was shocked to find that the fridge and pantry were stocked to the gills. Almost absurdly – she was certain some of the food was going to go bad. No human could consume that much! She was also dismayed when she realized that the keys in the envelope were not an extra set to the house, but in fact car keys. Wandering down into the garage, she flipped the lights on to reveal a sparkling – and very new looking – Audi. What was wrong with her Honda Civic? Sure it was ancient, but she’d enjoyed many a good road trip in it and it had never failed her. She would definitely not be using the car. Somebody had to draw the line with this high-handed man.

Later that night, she walked nervously down Fangtasy’s hallway towards Eric’s office. After a very long and luxurious bath earlier (her new bathroom being more akin to a boutique spa), she was feeling rather fantastic. She’d swept up her hair, donned a delicate lavender silk dress with some kick butt open toed booties and a leather jacket. She even went as far as applying a sultry wine lipstick. She tapped on the door and looked up in the camera, waving. The door opened, revealing Eric in jeans and a very snug black t-shirt.

Dang he knew how to make an entrance.

“Evening,” she said in a barely audible whisper. His eyes grew wide as he took in the vision before him. Was there not a shade of purple that didn’t make her positively glow? He’d had her new quarters stuffed with the finest orchids in the city, just because they reminded him so strongly of the beautiful and complicated woman before him.

“Hello my lovely Lila.”

“I don’t know how to begin thanking you. The house is…it’s stunning. You’re also an enormous jerk, because you  _knew_ I wouldn’t be able to say no.”

Eric had a smug grin of satisfaction on his face.

“As for the ‘book’ you sent me?” she drew quotes in the air. “Eric. You are a fucking madman. I don’t want to know how you came by it, but all I can say is I was too terrified to even move it to give it back to you.”

“You don’t like it?” He made sad, blue puppy dog eyes at her.

“It’s a freaking treasure of Western civilization! Those pages contain the most brilliant words ever strung together in the English language. It should be in a museum, not sitting on a kitchen counter in the suburbs!”

Eric shrugged. “Then lend it to a museum. It’s yours to do with as you please.”

She stammered. How could someone be so nonchalant about priceless artifacts? And gads how many more did he have stuffed away?

“Are you in the mob?”

He laughed, inviting her to sit down. “No.”

“Arms dealer?”

“No.”

“Eric…are you some sort of Thomas Crown-like antiquities thief?”

“No Lillian. And I would never give you something I didn’t legally acquire. That’s just poor form.”

“Ugh!” She crossed her arms in frustration. A knock sounded at the door.

“Enter.”

Pamela came in looking extra sassy in a sparkly red number. “Lillian.” She handed her a gin and tonic, then gave Eric a look before sauntering back out.

“Um, thanks. Aren’t you going to join me?”

“I never drink on the job.” She felt sheepish suddenly, as though he was commenting on her own choices. He must have realized her misinterpretation and quickly added, “I only meant that I thought it might make you more amenable to accepting your housewarming gift. Plus,” he grinned wolfishly, “I wanted to liquor you up before you tell me all about what you’ve selected for the calendar.”

“Har har!”

“Come now. Tell Eric.” He sat on the edge of his desk with his hands in his pockets.

Lillian steeled herself. She pulled the packet of photos out of her bag. Oh, she’d made her selection all right. She shuffled through the pile until she found an image flagged with a post-it note. “You should put this one in.” Eric was in his favorite leather pants. He was covered in sweat and his hair was slicked forward. His gaze was set directly into the camera and it was  _fierce. “_ It fits the best with the overall theme you seem to be aiming for.”

“It’s your favorite then?”

She blushed. “I only said it is the one you should use.”

He leaned in closer, forcing her to look him deep in the eyes, setting his arms on either arm of her chair.

“Which did  _you_  like best?”

She looked away. His gaze was overwhelming. The rapid cycling of his emotions was dizzying – one minute he was jocular and playful, the next he was intense and serious. “The one on the stool,” she replied quietly. The photo was breathtaking. She wasn’t even sure why it was in there – it was unlike any of the others and it was shot in black and white. He was dressed in a black shirt and black shorts, dress shoes without socks, and a black coat with the hood pulled over his head. His gaze was focused down so that the light felt darkly across his Scandinavian features, highlighting his perfectly sculpted high cheekbones and luscious lips.

He sat back on his desk, lost in thought. “Pam took it. Why do you like it?”

“It’s the most like you, I suppose. It’s at once a simple image but deeply complex.” He raised an eyebrow. “And you can see the Viking ancestors in your features.” She hoped she hadn’t said the wrong thing. “I mean, that’s at least what I thought. But then again what do I know? I barely know you.”

He smiled gently at her. “C’mon then. I’ve got a shitpile of work to handle and I’m sure you need to interview people. But come back in a few hours and we can go over some more of the merchandise if you like.”

“Do these involve more buck naked shots of you? “

“Would you like them more if they did?” he shot back.

Lillian shook her head at the exasperatingly naughty man. “You, Mr. Northman, are impossible!”

Several hours later, the few remaining clubgoers were trickling out and the servers were cleaning up the tables, rearranging chairs, and collecting empty cups and bottles. They were usually quick at their work, eager to get home after a long night. “Night, Lillian. See you tomorrow,” called the last waitress as she headed out the front door. It always amazed her how empty and drab the place felt with no one in it, since it was so splashy and full of life when in full tilt. Despite feeling wiped out – she’d done 6 interviews – she was still eager to review the rest of the merchandising scheme with Eric. As if he’d heard her, he emerged from the hallway and beckoned her to join him.

“Still got some steam left?”

“Oh, I can’t wait to see what my new landlord has up his sleeve,” she teased.

Eric unlocked the steel door across from his office and lugged it open. She was surprised to see it was so heavy.

“Ladies first.”

Stepping inside, there were four shelving racks stuffed to the brim with boxes.

“Pam usually manages this end of things. She’s got a system. Let’s see. Yes, here are the novelty items. Some of these are very amusing.” He pulled a box out, revealing four inch bobble head dolls in Pam and Eric’s likenesses. “All this here is clothing and accessories,” he said, gesturing to another rack. “They’re our biggest sellers.”

“How do you decide what to put on them?”

“We’ve experimented with different slogans and images and Pam tracks sales, adjusting orders as necessary. One of the most popular items are these.” He pulled out a  _very_ skimpy string bikini thong with two bloody fang marks on the small triangle of fabric.

“Classy.”

“Yes, I think so too.” They both laughed.

Lillian started digging through the boxes, putting a million questions to Eric. He obliged her with detailed answers and seemed to genuinely enjoy her rapid and inquisitive mind. Plus the view of her spectacular rear bouncing under that filmy silk dress as she reached for the boxes didn’t hurt either. Eric was entirely engrossed in the view when he heard the door slam. Lillian startled and threw a box of bandannas everywhere.

“What the…!” She spun around just as Eric rushed toward the door.

“Oh FUCK,” he breathed.

“Eric, what the hell happened? Is it stuck?” Eric turned slowly around and leaned against the door. “What’s wrong. Eric?” Her voice was getting more panicky by the second. He just stood there, staring at Lillian, wide-eyed. “Eric, you’re scaring me. Is it locked?” He nodded his head and then stepped to the side. The door handle had been removed. Lillian rushed to the door and started banging. “PAAAAAM,” she screamed. “PAAAAAM” She looked desperately at Eric.

“She already left.”

“Okay, okay.” Lillian tried to calm herself.

“Phone!” she pulled out her cell, but there was no signal. The wifi was dead as a doornail too. The walls must be too thick.

Eric was pacing around in the now claustrophobically small room with a hand over his mouth. “Should have thought of this. Fucking idiot. Of course this is a perfect trap,” he mumbled to himself.

“What? Are you saying someone did this intentionally?” A look of horror came across her face.

He turned to her and roared “OF COURSE WE’VE BEEN FUCKING TRAPPED!”

Lillian recoiled at his viciousness. “Jesus, Eric, ok. Let’s just calm down and assess the situation.”

“You have NO IDEA the situation you are in.” He spat venomously at her.

Lillian nearly burst into tears, but she managed to keep it together. “Alright. Care to fill me in?” He ignored her and continued his manic pacing. Lillian tried to stay positive. “Look, when does your staff usually start to get here? We’ll just wait it out. Worst case scenario we’ll be out of here in 12 hours. We’ll be ok. Maybe a little chilly, but ok.” She shivered, realizing she’d left her jacket in the booth.

Eric gave her a hard stare. “Air ducts. You’re brilliant.” He ripped a shelf away from the wall, tossing it down. Pointing to a small vent, he looked back at her. “Do you think you can squeeze that fine little ass of yours through there? It’s tight, but this might be our only play in the book here.”

Lillian froze. She was terrified of being squeezed in small spaces. It was the main reason why she had chosen not to pursue archaeology. “Where does it lead?”

“This room is a backup freezer, so if you follow through, you’ll hit a fan on the backside of the building. There’s an industrial condenser just beyond it, so you’ll have to try to get through there.” He quickly added, “The unit’s off. But fuck. How to get out?” He started his pacing once more.

Dumping the contents of her bag on the floor, Lillian dug around in the scattered pile of pens and lipstick. “Will this work?” She held up a small leatherman.

Eric rushed over and clasped her. His hands were cold. “You brilliant woman! Thank the gods.” Lillian unscrewed the grate and peered into the dark length of the metal ductwork. She would fit, but just barely.

“Listen very carefully to me, Lillian. You need to do exactly what I say.” She nodded. “Exactly, okay? Be as fast as you can, time is of the essence. Whoever did this may not be far. Here are my car keys. Once you get out, run to my car. We need  _my_  car. Now here’s where it is very important. Do NOT start the engine. He held up an odd brass key. “First, you need to open the glove box and put this key in the little computer inside. All you do is turn it. You’ll see a green light turn on. Then you can start the car. Get as close to the back door as possible. This is the building key. Got it? Hurry.”

Sticking the keys in her mouth and bearing the leatherman in one hand, she slithered into the tunnel. She felt the sides pressing all around her. There was barely a clearance of a few inches where she could bend a knee to push herself along with her feet. She tried pulling with her arms instead. That quickened things, since her (once lovely and now very likely ruined) silk dress displaced some of the friction. She heard Eric encouraging her “Fly little Valkyrie! Go, go, go!” She could see faint light ahead. There was a wicked 90 degree turn, but she managed to get on her side and bend through it. She felt something crawl up her leg, and she bit down on the keys to keep from screaming. Damn cockroaches. Just a few more feet. Then, within minutes, she was at the fan.

Working as quickly as she could, she tried to find the screws holding it in place. It was nearly dawn, and there was only just the pinkest of light to work by. Her hand crossed something and cold dread passed over her body. The very rusty end of a nut. It was screwed in from the other side. Panicking, she banged on the fan, hoping she could force it out. She didn’t have enough strength in her arms. Maybe if she went back out and came in feet first, she could kick it out. But no, there wasn’t time. Suddenly she remembered the little saw blade on the leatherman. Hadn’t she seen in an infomercial that it could cut through steel? She sure as hell hoped so. Popping it out, she started hacking away and shortly, the nut fell away. She tried to ignore Eric’s frantic voice from the other end of the shaft. Three more left. Then two. And then the fan was off. Ahead she could see the coils of the AC unit. Flipping on her back, she jammed the blade as hard as she could straight up into the ductwork an started sawing. By the time she was done, she was covered in sweat, but she’d managed to carve a C shaped hole big enough to let herself out. She pushed the metal paneling back and carefully pulled herself out, trying not to scratch herself on the jagged edges. Taking a deep breath of fresh air, Lillian realized she wasn’t standing on pavement. She was on the  _roof_. The vent must have had a rise. No wonder it had been a hard climb! Running to the side of the building, she saw the dumpster was open.

 _Here goes nothing_. She jumped, landing square on top of several reeking garbage bags. Vaulting out, she tore across the parking lot towards the car. She remembered – just barely – about the glove box thingie. She got it on and then turned the engine over, hearing it roar under the hood. Only vaguely did it register that she was driving a Ferrari for the first time. Throwing it in gear she peeled around the corner and got it snuggly up against the building. Fumbling with the keys she got the back door open and ran to the storage door. She heaved all of her weight on the sucker. Damn was it heavy. Then it flew open, nearly knocking her against the wall. Eric had pushed it from his side and in an instant he dashed into his office. He reached behind a shelf in his bookcase and she heard a mechanic grinding noise. The middle section of the entire bookcase shifted and he pulled it aside, revealing a secret room behind. He grabbed a rucksack and threw it at Lillian to catch. Then another. He stepped in further and emerged with a massive broadsword and slung it over his shoulder.

“Eric, your nose is bleeding.”

“I know.” He stormed past Lillian, then turned. Blood was trickling out of one of his ears.

“Eric…”

“I know! Listen, go out the door and get in the car. Open the driver’s side for me. I’ll be out in a sec.”

When she dashed out the door, Eric stepped into the large shadow it cast in the hallway. Turning, he punched a code into the security system and took a big breath. The blur happened so fast Lillian only realized Eric was in the car when it rocked with the force of his body jumping in. He leaned back, sniffling back his bloody nose. She smelled something slightly foul, like burnt hair.

“Jesus. Are you okay? What…”

He turned, his eyes glittered fiercely. A tear of blood dripped from the corner of his eye and down his cheek. Lillian couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. Eric hit the doorlocks. “If you even touch that door…” he put a finger in her face menacingly, “if you even  _think_ about touching that door, I will  _kill_  you. Do. You. Understand.” Lillian was trembling. She barely worked out a nod. Her mind flew trying to piece together what was happening. “You did well, but this isn’t over yet. You cannot let me fall asleep. We have got to get to a safe house. Okay? Do NOT let me fall asleep.”

And with that, he threw the vehicle into gear and tore out of the parking lot. They weren’t just going over the speed limit. They were making a land speed record. The force of the car shifting gears slammed her back in her seat.

“Talk to me. You’ve got to keep me awake,” he barked at her.

“What. What are you.”

“You know what I am now. I told you that you didn’t understand the situation you were in.”

“You’re…”

“Yes.”

“Vampire.”

“Yes.”

“It’s true?”

“Yes, god dammit. Now you’re going to have to do better than this. Lillian, if I fall asleep you’ll never get me back up, and we need to be off the road and somewhere safe. Stat.”

“But it’s dawn.” She turned looking in horror at the windshield.

“It’s a special glass, Lillian. The light can’t hurt me in here. Just don’t fucking open that door.” He eyed her again.

Lillian thought for a second and then did what she always did with colleagues when she ran out of stories – she began recounting the most lurid disease tales from her original fieldwork she could think of.

“Amoebic dysentery? That’s disgusting, Lila. Tell me more.”

She did. In detail. Very foul, descriptive detail. He even laughed once. Eric was starting to fade when they thankfully turned off the road into a rather plain, cookie-cutter house neighborhood. “Blue bag. There’s a remote.” Lillian undid the tie on the rucksack and gasped. The remote was there. Along with stacks and stacks of cash. They pulled up to an utterly nondescript house. Eric aimed the remote at the garage. Nothing happened. He pushed the button again. Still nothing.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He banged on it and tried again. “The fucking batteries are dead!” Under his breathe he muttered “You’re losing your touch, Northman.”

“Okay,” Lillian breathed. She always did have a good head in an emergency. “So the gist of the situation is that we need to get in the garage. But neither of us can get out.” Eric nodded. Lillian whipped out her phone and quickly Googled for parking garages.

“Eric, there’s a multi-story parking garage about 2 miles down the road from here next to a Super-Walmart. Do you think if we parked on the bottom level, somewhere dark, I could get out and run to the store for batteries?

“My Valkyrie,” he breathed a sigh of relief. He ripped backwards in reverse and moments later, in a dark corner of the parking garage, Lillian put her hand on the door handle with temerity.

“It’s okay. Just be quick.” He pulled out a stack of $20s from the bag and shoved them at her. “Cash only. We can’t leave a digital trace until we know what we’re dealing with.” Lillian leapt out of the car and slammed the door. Peering back in, Eric gave her the thumbs up. Next thing she knew she was running through a weedy field in her now dirt and garbage juice stained dress towards a Walmart as though her life depended on it. Well, maybe it did. She really hadn’t had time to process what was happening to her.

Inside the store, Lillian sprinted, knocking an entire rack of 9 volt batteries in the basket. She found the sporting goods section and proceeded to terrify the poor kid behind the counter. “What’s the most powerful thing I can buy right now?”

“Uh, we got BB guns?”

“No good.” She looked frantically in the case. “Give me that.” She pointed to a compound cross bow. “And that.” A set of arrows. “And that.” A large hunting knife with a nasty looking blade. Hurtling back towards the registers, she spotted a display with granola bars. Food. She was starving. She grabbed the entire cardboard display and dumped it in the cart. Then a shelf of Red Bull. A thought suddenly stopped her dead in her tracks. If she was hungry…and thirsty…wouldn’t…

 _Oh God!_  she thought in horror. The deli counter near the bakery caught her eye, giving her an idea. “Hey, mister!” She waved to get the attention of the butcher in the back. He wiped hands on his apron and came out.

“What can I do ya for ma’am?”

 _How to make this not sound crazy._ “Um. I’ve been wanting to make…my grandmother’s boudin sausages for a while now. Got a big family reunion next couple days. You got any… blood?”

The man eyed her cart suspiciously, then disappeared in the back. “This is all we got. We ain’t got nothin’ smaller.” It was a 5 gallon jug of pig blood.

“Ok, yep. That’ll do.” She hefted it off the counter and into her basket. At the checkout line, the lady ringing up her eclectic purchases was moving like a turtle. Lillian leaned over and whispered, “If you hurry the fuck up, I’ll give you $100.” She shoved a wad of cash into her breast pocket. “Move!”

The woman’s eyes bulged and the register began to beep at a significantly faster pace. There was no time to bag her purchases. She dumped everything in the cart and hoped security wouldn’t chase her down the road when she took off with it.

When she got back to the mean looking car hiding in the shadows of the parking lot, she sighed in relief and tapped on the window. No response. She opened the door a crack and swore _._  Eric had slumped down into the driver’s seat and looked, well, dead. Quickly transferring everything into the footwell of the car, she had to make a decision. She grabbed Eric’s arms and pulled back with all her might. She managed to get him halfway into the passenger seat. Running around to the other side, she heaved one massive leg, then the other, over the gearbox and into the now stuffed footspace of the passenger side. He was crumpled in an unnatural position. It looked uncomfortable, but what did it matter? She reached over between his knees and checked that the mystery box was still on. It was. She’d have to ask about that later. Locking the doors, she retraced their path back to the house. Back in front of the driveway, she stuffed a new battery in the remote and had a Clark Griswold Christmas Vacation moment. If this thing didn’t work….She hit the button and the door spun into life. Hallelujah. There was a black Escalade parked inside. The car’s low growl was amplified as she pulled in and cut the engine. She hit the remote again, closing the door behind them. Now what? She got out and pondered her next move.

“ERIC!” she yelled in his face. “ERIC!” No movement. Then, much to her shock, she coiled back her arm and slapped him as hard as she could. His eyes opened into slits and he grunted. Blood started dripping out again and he blinked it away. “We’re here, what do we do? Are the windows inside safe?” His eyes closed and he nodded. “No good. Are they safe? Are they tinted like the car?”

“Yes” he whispered.

“Get up. I can’t carry you. You weigh a ton.” He stirred, and grabbing his arms she helped pull him out of the vehicle. He put a cold arm around her and she helped walk him to the door. It was locked. “Keys?” Eric simply moaned and leaned against the wall for support. She dashed back to the car, hoping they’d be in the blue bag. She guessed right.

She got the door open and pulled Eric inside. Across the living room was a large leather couch. “C’mon. We’re almost there. Just a few more steps.” She encouraged him with a push and he landed with a thud. Bullseye.

Eric’s bloodshot eyes squinted at her. “Lillian,” he whispered. He raised a hand and managed to lean forward. “Don’t move.” The next thing he did shocked her. He pulled her head towards her and licked her bottom lip, then sucked at it. He wiped a thumb roughly over the spot. “Not ready for a blood bond,” he managed to rasp out. Then he was out.

Confused, Lillian looked down at her hand. Sweet Jesus. When she’d slapped him awake, the blood on his face had splattered everywhere. She got up and tiptoed down the hall in search of a bathroom. The place barely had anything in it – no decorations and sparse furnishings. She passed a room and peered in. A bedroom with a bed and a dresser. The next door was a small bathroom. She flipped the light on and was horror-struck at the sight. There were spatters of Eric’s blood across her face, chest, and arm. Eric. Vampire Eric. She could feel her body start to go into shock again. She washed off thoroughly, making darn sure to keep her mouth and eyes tightly shut. Looking under the sink, she found towels. She wet a washcloth and went back into the living room.

Kneeling next to the couch, she began to wipe Eric’s face gently, getting as much of the drying blood off as she could. Eric had had the bleeds. Because Eric was a vampire. She kept saying the words over in her head, but they still seemed to mean nothing. How could this actually be? And now that he was forced to reveal his secret, what would he do to her?

There was only one way to find out, and that would be to survive the day. She still had no clue who – or what – was after them. She unloaded the car into the house, thankful when she lugged the tub of blood in that there was a working fridge. Lillian armed herself with her new crossbow, then carefully laid Eric’s broadsword at his side. She didn’t have to ask to know. It was  _old_. Thinking for a moment, she realized that if someone were to attack and break in, the tinted windows would be useless to Eric. He probably never slept like this, exposed and out in the open. He looked so handsome. And dead.

She pulled the quilt off the bedroom mattress and settled it over him, feeling slightly better that he had another layer of protection. She sat down at the foot of the couch with her new weapon, drank two Red Bulls, and prepared to wait. She caught herself starting to fall asleep a few times, so she drank another energy drink and powered through her exhaustion. When the light started to change outside, she kept a careful eye on the blanket. She didn’t know how soon Eric could rise. The sun started to slip deep in the horizon. Lillian decided she wasn’t going to wait to find out whether Eric would be hungry. But where to hide? She remembered how irate he’d been at the scratch on the hood of his car. He wouldn’t want to damage his car to get at her, right? Hopping up, she slid into the passenger seat, keys in hand, and locked the doors. She hadn’t had the chance to appreciate how the plush bucket seats hugged her. Letting her head fall back against the head rest, she let her eyes rest for what she told herself would be just a minute _._

The sun hadn’t fully set, but something stirred on the couch. Then sprang forth. Eric shot up, and instinctively brandishing his sword, sliced right through a blanket. Disoriented, he cast it aside. Someone had put him to bed on the couch with his beloved longsword, Grendl, and covered him. Sniffing the air, he realized Lillian’s scent was all over his face, neck, and arms. There was the slight trace of something else foul, but he’d figure that out momentarily. He saw a little round indent in the carpet next to him. He reached down and lay his palm flat on the fibers. It was still warm. There were little cans littered on the floor and several food wrappers.

“Min Lila?” he called. No reply.

He could hear the thud of a heartbeat in the garage. Lillian’s face was pressed up against the glass of the Ferrari’s passenger door. She was out like a light. He knocked on the window and she came to.

“Good evening, my little Valkyrie.”

“Eric, are you ok?”

“Of course.”

“But the bleeds…”

“It is not dangerous to me at my age. Just messy.”

“I meant, are you hungry? Am I safe?”

He laughed. “Perfectly. Come on out now.”

She shifted and held something up to the glass. Eric’s eyes grew wide. She was armed with a crossbow. “I’m coming out, but you behave, or you’ll be working on the business end of this baby.”

He threw back his head and howled with laughter. Shaking his head, he sauntered back into the house, gesturing for her to follow. She unlocked the car door, keeping her weapon in front of her. “You, my lover, are as fierce as they come. Were you sitting there with that thing aimed at me all day?” He used humor to cover the fact that the thought sent shivers down his back. In his long life, this was a fuckup on a grand scale.

She pulled back in shock, looking as though he’d smacked her. “Of course not! I was afraid someone was still coming after us. You were so exposed! If they’d broken a window or opened the door…I didn’t know what to do.”

He reflected on this. “Let me get this straight. You dragged me into the house, gave me my sword, and shielded me the best you could. I believe you washed me up?” She nodded. She didn’t mention that she’d brushed the tangles out of his golden hair with her fingers. “Then you sat at my feet chugging caffeinated soda all day waiting to shoot whoever knocked on the door? You guarded me all day.” She nodded again. Eric’s mouth actually gaped for a moment. He was in awe. A dark thought crossed his mind that she would make a spectacular vampire, but he quickly brushed it aside. He walked over to her, carefully pushing her crossbow to the side and drew her into an enormous bear hug. “In all my years, I have never met a human like you. You saved my life, uncompelled. You sheltered me and guarded me with no incentive. I have never even allowed a human near me while I slept.  _Never_.”

“Just how many years are we talking?”

“Lillian, I have walked the nights for over a millennium.”

She tried to process the information. Then something dawned on her. “Looking on darkness which the blind do see. I knew there was something that kept bugging me about that line. The truth was staring me right in the face.” He smiled mischievously. “And something else. You said you broke that statue as a boy, but when I first looked at it, I noticed the aging on the hand was uniform with the rest of it. It didn’t make sense to me at the time.” She shook her head. “Well, I guess I know where your personal collection of Shakespeare came from. Hell, he probably signed the frontispiece and gave it to you!”

Eric gave a soft laugh. Then sniffed the air. “Lillian, do you have any idea what that terrible smell is? It reeks like a barnyard floor in here.”

Lillian knitted her eyebrows together, then realizing what he must smell, she turned bright pink. “Oh my god. Please, don’t laugh. I was afraid you would be hungry and I… Well, I got a vat of pig blood from the butcher. I don’t know what your needs are, but I’d rather they not involve me.”

At this, Eric stalked over to the fridge and peered in. The look on his face was priceless – a mix of utter shock and total hilarity. “Lila, I’m not a fucking Cullen. I don’t sparkle and I sure as hell don’t eat farm animals. At my age I can go a long time before I need to feed. Even if I were hungry, which I’m not, I have great self-control. I would never harm you.”

“How long, exactly?”

He thought about it momentarily. “A month, easily, before I would start to weaken. I’ve gone far longer, but it isn’t pretty and it certainly wasn’t by choice.”

“Last night, I got your blood on my face. Do you remember? You sucked it off my lip. What would that have done to me?”

“It wouldn’t turn you, if that’s what you mean. It would connect us. Intimately.”

She blushed, but pressed on. She needed to understand. “How so?”

He pulled her to the couch. Yet again she was astonished at how cool he was. It wasn’t unpleasant, more like the feeling of cool sheets against your skin. It was almost relaxing. “Every blood tie is slightly different. I would know how you were feeling, where you were. This strengthens the more times it is exchanged.” The thought of Lillian’s mouth sucking on his neck began to arouse him. The idea of binding her to him suddenly seemed appealing. He was shocked at himself. He hadn’t shared his blood with another in centuries.

“I was really careful. I got it all off. I’m sorry that happened.”

He traced a circle on her jawline. “I’m only sorry that I wasn’t more awake when I was kissing your delicious mouth.”

“You know when you describe things as delicious now, I’m kind of hearing it a different way, right?”

“Touché,” he laughed.

“What do we do now?”

“I’ve already summoned Pamela. She should be here soon, then we can sort this mess out. I am sorry you were caught in the middle of this.”

Lillian suddenly had another thought. “Is Pam…”

“Yes. She is my child.”

Lillian started laughing. “Vampires pretending to be humans pretending to be vampires. It’s brilliant. Are there many of your kind?”

“Not so many. I don’t think anyone knows precisely, but there’s a higher concentration in Louisiana. With all the tourism and all the gothic shops and stories, it makes it much easier to hide in plain sight.”

“How much of Charlaine’s books are true? Why did you tell her so much?”

Eric sighed. “It seemed harmless at the time. An acquaintance of mine had done similarly some decades ago – started stories about himself, that is. It was quite profitable for him. Pam and I have been bored. Being vampire means constantly reinventing yourself, reimagining your world. Sometimes the human world around you changes too quickly, sometimes too slowly. It’s important to stay engaged.”

Lillian considered this. “Wait. You have a friend who did the same? You’re not talking about…” No, it couldn’t be.

“Lestat? Yes, that old scoundrel. The tales of his and Louis’ adventures are mostly fictitious, just as mine and Pamela’s are. But Anne certainly captured his epic ego. Of course, neither she nor Charlaine remember their inspirations. They were glamoured to the hilt to forget.” Eric gave a rakish grin.

Lillian searched Eric’s face. “So you can glamour.” She suddenly felt crushed, realizing what this meant for her. “And this is my fate too?” she whispered. “Is that why you’re telling me this now?”

“Let’s just focus on getting out of this mess first.” He was forestalling making any decisions.

“Eric, my whole life I’ve wanted to find magic in this world. It’s why I’ve studied what I have. This is – you are – remarkable. Please don’t take it from me now that I’ve found you. I wouldn’t betray you.” She inadvertently placed her hand on his chest. She looked at him, pleading with her eyes. He growled a low, feral sound. Leaning tentatively over her mouth, he kissed her once, then twice, then savagely. His mouth was sweet, cool, and delicious, and she fisted her hands through his gorgeous mane. Eric ravaged her, licking and sucking her lovely mouth, running his tongue over hers and encircling her small frame with his strong arms. In his excitement, his fangs had run out. Lillian pulled back. She reached up in curiosity. “May I?” she whispered. Consenting, he opened his mouth wider. She slowly ran her finger down the length of one. Eric groaned. She leaned up and licked the other, and resumed a deep kiss, caressing his teeth with the tip of her tongue. He growled and pushed her back on the couch, covering her with his hard body. He smothered her with kisses. Lillian faintly registered a ringing. She nipped and licked Eric’s chin, trailing down his neck. She heard the ringing again.

“Eric, I think someone’s at the door.”

“I know,” he said between kisses.

“Eric.”

“I know!” He pushed back from the couch, eying her with lust and frustration. 

He opened the front door, revealing Pam standing, arms crossed, in a pink velvet tracksuit. She looked past Eric into the living room and spotted Lillian’s disheveled frame on the couch. “Oh this is  _grand_ , Eric. Grand.”

“Come in,” he huffed.

Pam eyed Lillian, who was trying rather hopelessly to smooth back her hair. The filthy dress was beyond help. “Sorry to interrupt” she said, glee glinting in her eyes.

“Pamela, enough. We’ve got bigger problems.” Eric quickly recounted the story.

Pam looked at Lillian in amazement. Her smugness was gone. “Thank you,” she said with a quiet humility. 

“I need you to run out and get Lillian food and clothes. Lila, make Pam a list. Be specific with the food – she hasn’t gone grocery shopping in nearly 200 years. While you do that, I’m going to try to get my phone synced up to play the security feed backwards so we can see who did this.”

Lillian scratched out a few things for Pam, who now seemed far more amenable to running errands for a human since she’d saved her master’s life. Lillian let out a yawn. She hadn’t slept in well over 24 hours.

“C’mon, lover.” He led her down the hallway. “I’ve got a few of my t- shirts in here that you can wear. Why don’t you take a quick shower and rest a while? This is going to be a long night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please leave a comment if you have a moment. xx, M


	5. A Thief In The Night

Lillian woke several hours later to the sounds of Eric and Pam arguing heatedly in hushed tones. The bed had never been properly broken in and was hard as a rock, and the now sliced-up comforter was drafty. Alas, several hours of fairly crummy sleep was better than no rest at all. The two vampires whipped their heads towards the door when she emerged. They were sitting on the carpet, sorting through a stack of papers. Judging by their stunned looks, Lillian mused that they were probably not used to having a strange human wandering around their crash pad. 

“So what’s the status?” she asked.

“Your food is in the fridge. I took the liberty of discarding your little ‘gift’ for my maker.”

“Oh thanks, Pam. I, uh, feel kinda stupid about that one.” Lillian shifted her weight and scratched her leg, feeling uncomfortable standing before them in Eric’s long Fangtasy t-shirt.

“Here,” Pam said, pushing two glossy bags across the carpet. “These are for you.”

Lillian hoisted one up. It was surprisingly hefty. Fingering one of the tags inside, she saw that the jeans alone cost over $150. “Pam! I can’t afford these clothes! It will take forever to pay you back!”

“Well then it’s a good thing you don’t have to,” she replied dryly.

She stood there agape. “Seriously, what is  _with_  you guys and ostentatious gifts? I mean, thanks, I really appreciate the gesture and all, but…” She pawed through the bag, noting a number of delicate blouses. “You two are just  _way_  over the top. You know some people might take it as insulting.”

“Are you one of them?” Pam retorted. Pam didn’t strike her as exactly the flowery, wear-her-heart-on-her-sleeve type gal, so Lillian wasn’t going to give her a hard time if this is how she expressed herself. Anyhow, Pam probably developed the habit from King Outlandish seated across from her.

“Well, no. I know your heart was in the right place.”

“Cupcake, my heart stopped beating in 1849. Whatever place that useless organ is in is irrelevant.”

“Okay, well, thanks for these.” Pam just shrugged and turned back to Eric and what appeared to be a pile of spreadsheets.

Lillian changed quickly and hunted down a yogurt cup once back in the main room. Both vampires wrinkled their noses when she opened the fridge. She was glad her sense of smell couldn’t pick up whatever traces of her regrettable indiscretion remained. Unfortunately, she hadn’t had the foresight to ask about flatware and discovered that she had no other option but to drink it sloppily from the container.

“What have you found out? Did you get the video feed to rewind?”

“Yes.” Eric didn’t offer more.

“And…?” Lillian pressed.

“It was Longshadow.”

“Oh jeez. Was it because I got him fired? Wait, is he a you-know-what as well?”

“Respectively, we don’t know and yes,” Eric answered. Pam eyed him warily. She didn’t like her maker revealing so much. Eric had argued that since Lillian was already collateral damage in this mess, she at least deserved to know enough to keep her head above water.

“What did the cameras show?” she asked.

“Nothing much. He came in the back, slammed the storage door, and ran out.”

“So are you thinking maybe this is just revenge? Did he know I was in there too?”

Eric tapped on the phone and pulled up the video to show her. Hitting play, she saw a blur flash in front of the hallway camera and then disappear. He hit pause. The footage was only several  _seconds_ long. “Oh,” she gasped. Her eyes were too slow to even discern what, or who, it was. It could have been a moth flickering by momentarily for all she knew.

“It is difficult to know whether he scented you or not.”

“But he knew  _someone_  was in there, right? And he’d obviously planned this. Were you able to go back and find when he took off the door handle? Or confirm that he was acting alone?”

It was Eric’s turn to glare at Pam. For a human, his Lila’s mind worked very quickly. Ordinarily, he relished Pam’s brazen sauciness. He was born and raised among female Viking warriors, after all. His respect was reserved exclusively for people who challenged him to be a better, more dynamic man. However, he profoundly disliked when Pamela challenged his judgment in crucial matters. She’d grievously erred in questioning whether Lillian Choate had merited his respect, and as unlikely as it seemed, an improbable measure of his trust. After a millennium, there simply wasn’t much that surprised him (save of course the present predicament in which his total fucking idiocy was the front and center star). Lillian had indeed intrigued him from the moment she sauntered into his bar with her odd request. Now that she’d gotten him out of a jam he never should have fallen into in the first place, he was even more curious. Trapped in his own bloody bar by an underling grunt he should have staked long ago! He was fuming at himself for making such a grotesquely basic mistake: the storage room was  _meant_ to be used as an interrogation room and holding cell if needed, but one always built in secret redundancies for self-protection. When Pamela gave him shit earlier tonight, forgetting herself because she had been truly frightened for him, it sent him over the edge. She knew she’d damn well crossed the line when he’d laid into her in full blown Old Norse. Between them, modern Swedish was for privacy, but the ancient tongue was reserved for one thing and one thing only: Eric’s fury.

To add insult to injury, he was now perversely being set back by his hyper-precautious nature. Lillian was right about needing to see the older video, but he couldn’t get to the hub where he managed his diverse computing exploits until he had fully assessed the situation. It was simply a poor idea to leave the safe house without more information. He sighed. “No Lila, anything older than a week is automatically routed to an off-site server. Otherwise it would eat up too much of the in-house system’s memory and it’s more secure to keep the long-term digital archive elsewhere.”

Lillian furrowed her brow in concentration and plopped down on the floor to join the impromptu war council. Before them, she realized, were a zillion printouts from an accounting software program.

“Fangtasy’s books?”

“Yeah,” Pam said. “I usually review our accountant’s work. Eric has…other responsibilities. But I haven’t spotted any inconsistencies. I printed this hot mess off the computer this evening. We’re trying to spot check everything since the beginning of this fiscal year to see if there’s anything funny. If Longshadow got caught stealing from you, then maybe I missed something.” She avoided looking at Eric. His mouth was set in a hard line.

“May I?”

“Be my guest.” Pam shoved some of the stack her way.

Lillian sifted through the paperwork. Absentmindedly, she commented, “You know, one thing I don’t get is why anyone would go through the trouble of stealing, what, something on the order of $50 bucks from me? I mean, who takes such a big risk for so little? Especially since it seems that, given that your ‘condition,’ money isn’t really a problem, right?”

“It has puzzled me too,” Eric murmured. “We pay well and Longshadow is too old to have nothing to show for himself.”

“How old?” she wondered aloud. It just fascinated her to no end to think that there could be people around her with so much more experience, people who had witnessed so much history. She wasn’t going to even start thinking about the fact that Pam had just casually dropped that she was turned in 1849. “Sorry, is that a vulgar question?”

“No, it is relevant to our situation. He’s not yet a century old, and if he has any particular talents, they certainly have not manifested themselves yet. He poses virtually no threat to myself or Pam. I cannot explain his actions.”

They pored over the papers until something occurred to Lillian.

“Pam, these are just accounts receivable and accounts payable ledgers, no? I think you’re right, everything looks normal. If it looked like you were bleeding money…I mean if you were in the red…Shit! You know what I mean!” In the company of wolves, it seemed like a bad idea to draw attention to the fact that she was the lamb in this equation. “If anything, you’ve been making  _more_  money over the past couple of months, not less.”

Pam flashed a smile. “My ladies undergarment line has been a big hit,” she gloated at Eric. Her world clearly revolved around his approval.

 _Did that count as having daddy issues?_   _Actually, how do vampires think about kinship? They clearly still reckon family through familial blood ties, but…_  Lillian had to stop herself or she’d never stay focused.  _Money, Longshadow, trapped in a steel vault with the undead. Focus!_

“Well, I’m just wondering…Do you have the actual itemized records from your credit card machines? Like each time a card was swiped?”

“What are you thinking Lillian?” Eric reached over to one of the banker’s boxes and rifled through it until he found the right files.

“Well, it’s just a wild guess. But once – this was a couple years ago – I was buying some specialty pens at a fabric and art supply store. When I got home, I happened to look at the receipt and realized the total was way too much. I wasn’t paying attention when I was being checked out. I thought maybe the cashier had double scanned the stuff I got on accident, but then I saw that the receipt said I’d received $20 cash back. I hadn’t. I’d just swiped my card and spaced out. I remembered thinking at the time that the lady was kind of weird – too talkative and kind of jumpy. She’d also been wearing a cast on her arm which is something you usually notice, like, ‘oh she’s hurt herself.’ But it had looked too loose for her arm. I saw it, you know, but I didn’t think anything of it. I realized in retrospect that she must have hit the cash back button on the register and slipped the bill down the cast while I was distracted. The manager credited my card when I went back, but still. Do you think maybe Longshadow could have been doing something like that? I mean, if he can use vamp speed, he obviously wouldn’t need a diversion like a fake cast. Drunk people never look at their receipts anyways. All they want is to get their pitcher and get back to their table.”

She had Eric and Pam’s full attention now.

“You have an incredible knack for getting ripped off,” Pam offered.

“Thanks, Pam. But think about it, it’s not a bad scam. You rip off the customer, not your boss, since in this case your boss would probably rip off your head, and what’s coming out of the till is always balanced out by your Visa/Mastercard intake, so nothing seems out of the ordinary. The poor customer just wakes up hungover the next morning sixpence none the wiser. They’re probably thinking they went a little overboard, not noticing that their bill was maybe $10 or $20 dollars more. That’s the difference of just one or two of your absurdly overpriced drinks.” Lillian winked at Eric, goading him on. “Hell, I’ve seen the floor at closing – it’s littered with forgotten and discarded receipts. People are careless when they’re out for a good time.”

“Our exorbitant prices keep high octane petrol in my performance vehicles and those Louboutins on Pam’s perfectly pedicured feet, thank you very much. Our customers are happy to pay for watered down corn syrup if it means they get a glimpse of the Northman.” Eric drew a hand down his firm chest in exaggeration and girls both snickered.

“Har har, Captain Ego. Is that off the record or can I quote you on that?” Lillian joked, then realized her joke wasn’t so funny. In fact, not funny at all. She’d been too carried away with recent events to consider their effect on her research. Would they even let her write her book now? Even if she kept their secrets – and of course she would keep them – maybe everything had changed. No, everything  _had_ changed. Her entire worldview had been upended. If she couldn’t publish…She blanched at the thought…”Fuck, I’m going to get fired!”

Eric cocked an eyebrow. He instinctively followed her train of thought. “Don’t worry about the book now,” he reassured her. “It’s going to be fine. Look, I think you’re on to something. Since we also sell merchandise, we have the debit machines out on the end of the bar, checkout counter style, as opposed to behind it. It is an atypical setup for a club. If you’re right, Lila, it also explains why he would go to such lengths to cheat you for practically nothing. It makes sense to steal a little bit from everyone – it would eventually add up,” said Eric.

“Maybe Longshadow ripping me off was him just getting bold.”

“Longshadow is an idiot. Let’s see if you’re right and then there  _will_  be some head ripping,” Pam chimed in gleefully. The excited glitter in her eyes made Lillian think that Pam was not joking as much as she would like her to be. “Let’s figure out when the moron was on duty and compare how often customers were asking for cash back versus when he wasn’t working and see if there’s something to your theory.”

The trio dug in, and after an hour of silence punctuated by the shuffling of papers, Pam startled everyone with a sudden cry. “Well fuck a zombie!” she exclaimed, waving a series of transactions around in the air. “You were right, Lillian!”

Eric looked up from his work slowly and narrowed his eyes at Pam in his best ‘told-you-so-and-now-I-crush-your-soul’ stares. Lillian was too absorbed trying to find a similar looking debit in her own stack to notice when Pam gently put a hand over one of Eric’s and whispered, “ _Förlåt mig, mäster_.” [Forgive me, master]. He was motionless for more then a second, then nodded imperceptibly. Relief washed over Pam. She never should have criticized her maker when she knew he was distraught and already punishing himself for having made a dumb error. If she was going to be truthful, she was jealous that he’d secured Lillian’s attentions first. He always claimed the interesting ones first. Now she worried that he was distracted by her to the point of endangering them all. And to be even more brutally honest with herself, on a deeper level she recognized that Lillian was similar in some ways to herself – the ways that had first attracted Eric to consider keeping Pam at his side on an  _extended_  basis. Her fate was entwined with her maker’s, and more than a few of her kind relied upon him to keep them moving safely through their eternal nights.

At least now they had a small breakthrough. The proof was in the pudding. Longshadow had been secretly adding cash back requests on people’s cards who had started tabs, as well as customers who’d had larger single orders. It made little sense to take money if you were wrapping up an evening out and paying for all your drinks on a credit card, and people who ordered a bunch of drinks all at once were expecting an expensive check, likely because they were in a large group and hence distracted, so it obscured the small additional amount. By contrast, when Kandi or Chow had been working, very few people sought cash back. It appeared they’d caught him red-handed.

“But why?” Pam asked the million dollar question. In actuality, it was more like the $36,000 question. They only had this year’s records, but from their rough estimate, Longshadow had been pocketing around $200 on nights he tended bar. Eric leaned back on his arms in thought. All three were splayed out on the floor, covered in papers. Lillian sucked at another yogurt cup. This one was peach.

“Can you actually live on that stuff?” Pam asked.

“You’d be amazed at the crap I ate in grad school. It barely qualified as food.”

“Hm.” She didn’t inquire further. On second thought, Lillian didn’t want to recall her days of Ramen and Pabst Blue Ribbon either.

She changed the topic. “So, how many years did Longshadow work for you? If he’s been doing this all along, he seriously owes you some money.”

Eric was now flat on his back, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. “We took him on about three years back, as a favor to…” Pausing mid-sentence, he jerked upright. Pam gestured to Eric. “As a favor to Greysolon!” they said in unison.

“Lillian, you little inquisitive imp!” Eric said animatedly. “That’s it! You and your interminable questions. You’re constantly asking me about the things I take for granted when I’m trying to think eight steps ahead.”

“I get paid to be observant. Who’s Greysolon?”

“Daniel Greysolon, Sieur du Lhut. Longshadow’s maker,” replied Pam.

“Huh. The Lord of Lhut? Where’s that?”

Eric’s wheels were now spinning in high gear. But he needed to pace himself, all things in good time. “Lila, this knowledge about our world…”

“I swear I won’t tell! I’ll take it to my grave.” Oh Christ, she did it again. Lamb over here! Lambchop! Lamb kebob!

“It’s more than that, Lila.” Pam nodded in solemn agreement. “In our world, if there’s anything you need to understand, it’s this: knowledge is power, and  _power_  is power. You were right about what you said before. You’ve gone down the rabbit hole, although no one meant for it to happen. The more you learn, the more dangerous this gets for you. Neither Pam nor I want to pull you deeper into our vampire shit.”

“Lillian, revealing ourselves to humans can be punished by death,” added Pam. “With what has happened, I cannot overstress to you how serious this matter is.”

“Well, you’ve  _already_ pulled me into your drama. I take your point to heart, though, Wonderland isn’t so wonderful.” She let herself flop on the floor dejectedly. This was just too much weight for one day. “Now if only I could stop my evil subconscious from making me slip out with morbid puns, reminding everyone here that I’m snack-sized.” She started to giggle. “If this is Wonderland, are you sure there’s not a sign on my back that says ‘Eat me’?” She started laughing uncontrollably.

Pam turned to Eric in disgust, “I think the human is broken. What’s wrong with it?”

“She’s just exhausted.  _Min älskling Lila_  [my darling Violet], go get one of your little silver cans in the fridge.”  _They contain enough caffeine to raise the dead,_  he thought wickedly. He found her Freudian slips charming. It wasn’t that she was afraid of them especially – he could hear her heart rate was steady and calm and she had no scent of adrenaline. Rather, she wanted to minimize their differences. She was trying to be polite.

Lillian leaned over the green formica kitchen counter and downed her Red Bull. Pam might be mildly covetous of her, but she wasn’t going to deny herself or anyone else a nice view. The filmy white tunic Lillian was now wearing, courtesy Madame de Beaufort, had a deep V neckline that gave a delicious view of her tanned neck and the luscious curves of her bosom.  _And if you had a sign that said ‘Drink Me,’_ Eric mused darkly, continuing with his game,  _I would drink deeply, and you’d make this Viking grow…substantially larger_. He lingered on the thought, only to be intruded upon by yet another volley of Lillian’s questions.

“Wait, so can we back up for a sec? I know you two are all ‘I’m a beast of the night, fear my secrets’ and whatnot, but I’m in this regardless. So let me ask you this…”

“Do we have a choice?” snarked Pam.

Lillian ignored her. “If Longshadow shut the locker door knowing I was in there too, how does this change things for him? Maybe originally, he intended on trapping Eric, but what purpose did that serve and how do you figure his plans changed once he found us both in there?”

“We’re still trying to figure that out, kitten,” replied Pam.

“He traps Eric with me, knowing that dawn is near and he’ll be forced to reveal himself to me. Does that give him leverage over Eric? You said he could be killed for telling me.”

Neither spoke up and Pam shifted her weight nervously. It must be one of her tells. Was Lillian onto something? Vampires didn’t get fidgety, did they? Or did they? There was so much she didn’t know.

“Dangit, help me out here. What’s your government like? Is it the same as in Charlaine’s books – appointed monarchs organized by territories? Do I need to worry about some bitch vamp queen from hell making me quietly disappear and staking tall, blond, and dead here?” She gestured to the Viking.

Eric sighed. She had a remarkable way of wearing his resistance thin. “No, we’re not run by monarchies in the traditional sense, but we do have territories. I told you that power was power. Whomever is the oldest vampire in a given area has, by fiat, the right to assert his or her authority. Should that person not wish to declare their presence or simply wants to be left out of political dealings, the right is abdicated to the next oldest vampire, and so on.”

“So you’re a gerontocracy  _in extremis_.”

“Exactly. The older one is, the more powerful.”

“Power as in physically and in terms of other ‘gifts’ too? Like X-Men supernatural powers?”

Eric’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Most gifts are not so terribly spectacular. It is more the enhancement of something one had before, like mathematical intelligence, say, or a knack for making friends of anyone, or the ability to convince people of virtually any crazy thing. Even these mundane skills mature with time and become remarkable tools. There are rarer abilities – flight, invisibility, telekinesis, mind-reading, and so on – but these are fiercely guarded secrets even among our own kind. Rumored strengths can be as powerful as demonstrated ones. And then there is always the virtue of maintaining an element of surprise, keeping ones’ enemies guessing…”

What were their gifts?!Lillian held up her hand, pleading for him to stop. It was too tempting. “You know I’m dying to ask, but I’m going to restrain myself here. I know you’re being generous sharing even this much.”  She continued, “So if you’re 1000, are you the authority around here?”

“Most of the time.”

“So  _most_ of the time then, I presume it would be up to you to enforce your no revealing policy?”

“Clever woman.”

“So barring you losing your patience with me or you being racked with guilt over your indiscretion, we’re good. And when you are mostly not in charge? What’s to stop somebody older from swooping in and claiming the right to rule? It’s all so Pascalian – might equals right and what.”

“First of all, contrary to what every bit of pop culture seems to suggest, vampires are not constantly wasting their immortal lives by being caught up in petty squabbles and endless power grabs. It’s exhausting and wasteful for one, and it is mostly just human projection of what matters to your people – greed, jealousy, taking offense at silly slights.”

Pam had seated herself atop a bar stool at the kitchen counter and was busy filing her nails. She’d remained quiet, but clearly had been following the conversation. “Truly, Lillian, if the Salvatore brothers did exist, I’d hike to Mystic Falls in a hot minute and deliver those two the blessing of final death. I’ve never heard such petty dribble in all my life. ‘Elena’s mine, no she’s mine, no you’re stupid, no you’re stupider!’ Why does this girl not have them both and get on with things? I tell you what. Stake, stake, splash.  _Et fin_!” She cackled evilly.

“Aw, Pam,” teased Lillian, “You do have a heart! Let me guess, your gift is the gift of empathy?”

“Pshah. My gift is fabulous taste and truly epic nails. Look at these!” she showed off her long, perfectly rounded tips.

“I sense a diversion tactic. You may keep your secrets for now. But seriously, Eric. I still have a million questions. If a person’s positive attributes can become enhanced when they are reborn, can’t their negative traits do so as well? Doesn’t that make for trouble? And you’re avoiding answering why you are not always in power. I don’t mean to rub it in your face or anything, just help me understand our risk.”

“By the gods lilla Lila [little Violet], you never stop!” He tossed the papers still in hand and tackled her on the couch, laying down the length of the sofa and letting his long legs arch over her lap. She stroked one of his soft pale feet. After a moment, she realized his body temperature adjusted to hers. She hadn’t noticed this yesterday (she was otherwise occupied!). She caressed his ankle in experiment. It too warmed slightly under her touch, then cooled once she took her hand off. His body absorbed her own heat and equalized to it. Curious.

Eric paid no mind to her gentle touches. He lay there staring at the ceiling once more. She had noticed he liked to look up when pensive. Maybe it was a habit from his early days, going out ‘a viking. His people had vast astronomical knowledge and relied on the skies to find their bearings. He was orienting himself now. Taking a deep, unnecessary breath, he began.

“I shall tell you this much. You don’t need to worry about my having been revealed to you, at least where our customary law is concerned. It is thus for several reasons. My kind, for the better part, is not as driven by material gain as humans. Our survival depends largely on having a light hold on things – otherwise the constant change would destroy our sanity. My body doesn’t crave comfort and luxury as yours does, because it is not fragile and fleeting as yours. We don’t cling to objects to connect us to events we cannot fathom or grasp onto stuff as proof of our history, because we  _can_  comprehend even the deepest stretches of time and we  _are_ history’s proof. Even the youngest of us still living within what would have otherwise been our human lifespan can find someone older to enliven any one of a great many pasts. Of course, at the same time, it’s hard not to end up accruing all sorts of stuff. A perk of the undead; we’re not  _not_ going to live it up. But it’s dangerous if we find ourselves too attached. It’s why you perhaps thought me so flippant in giving you that folio. To me, the words on those vellum pages cannot be destroyed because I heard them spoken by Will himself. What do I care to save old sheets of ink when my memory is perfect, and the lilting sound of one man’s strong voice can never be captured on a page? You know I have treasures, mementos from many episodes in my life – my father’s sword, Grendl, for example, or a little bronze trifle dug up in a field that made you tremble so. But I know even these will fall prey to the ravages of time – they are as we speak – whilst I remain untouched. So, you see, so much for pettiness and in-fighting, they just aren’t good motivating factors for political intrigue.” He face darkened, and he added heatedly, “They are deplorable habits in a vampire and I squash any such behaviors the moment they are brought to my attention.”

Lillian considered her next words carefully. “I think your philosophy is elegant and true. But you’re speaking both as a noble ruler and someone who rightfully has survived the ages because you live by these time-tested principles. I say this with all due respect, Eric, but I’m calling bullshit.”

Pam froze momentarily, then snickered and continued with her ministrations. She could get used to being around this breather. She had spunk.

“Is that so?” he arched an eyebrow at the feisty morsel next to him.

“Yes. You already admitted that vampires are motivated to hide their powers from each other, because as you said, knowledge is power. You clearly use disinformation and partial truths to maneuver people where you want them– you’ve done it with me from the day we met. You also owned up to the fact that your kind  _does_  have enemies, hence the existence of whatever qualifies as your ‘vampire shit.'” I’ve no doubt you are deeply committed to your hyper-materialistic live in the moment but anti-materialist survive the longue durée philosophy. But it strikes me that you still very much identify yourself as a Viking, and some of your ideas and orientations, I can only guess, refract out of the attitudes of your day. Vikings didn’t have a terribly elaborate material culture. You were farmers when you had access to good land and tradespeople and conquerors when your crops failed, right? Adaptation and flexibility were essential parts of your reality. A good sword and a ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude was your way of life. I’m not criticizing; you  _are_ living proof that whatever you’re doing has been working for you. I wouldn’t stop now.” She winked at him and stroked his leg. “It just strikes me that there’s nothing to stop younglings from failing to understand these ideas. If they don’t evolve away from the superficialities of their time, they don’t last, am I right? But in the meantime, I reckon they get into all manner of trouble.”

Eric was truly taken aback. For all his dissimulation and devious ways, she saw straight through him and called him on his bs. Yet, in spite of it all, she appreciated him for exactly what he was. There was nothing to say. He pulled her to his chest and kissed her tenderly. She lay there, her head on those broad shoulders, twirling a strand of his hair around a finger.

He spoke quietly then. There wasn’t any point in keeping things from her. “With regard to our territories, there’s enough space for the elders to keep at very peaceable distances from each other. Anyone old enough to claim authority has long had a territory carved out. If and when elders choose to travel or relocate, it doesn’t do to try and destabilize the balance of things or attempt to grab land from another. The trouble with immortality is that you have to  _live_ with each other for a rather long time. It is always preferable to defer to the reigning figure, unless that person requests someone with seniority to take on the job, or else negotiate an arrangement that works for everyone. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Or in reality, the poor chap who must mediate between underlings with fairly inane issues – how to care for a newly turned one, cases of inheritance, etc. The one exception to the rule of seniority, my lover, is the authority of a ruler’s maker. We are bound by whatever magic animates us to follow our makers in all matters when compelled, so when mine comes here, as he does occasionally, his authority automatically trumps mine.” He shifted so that he was lying on the couch by her side, face to face.

“And like Pamela, I too was fortunate to have…a truly just and phenomenal being bring me over.”

Lillian would have expected Pamela to jump at an opportunity to take her usual jab at Eric – she did love winding him up. But her face remained impassive. Eric was using a thin veil of humor to cover a profound admiration and love. Perhaps he felt this weakened him. She couldn’t be certain, but she felt she had no right to push further. “May I ask you his name?”

“He is Godric. And he is infinitely more wise than I, a creature endowed with strengths that defy belief.” Eric’s hand snaked down her long neck and over the curves of her hips. He nipped at her chin and mouth playfully, breaking the heaviness of the moment.

You know,” she spoke quietly, not wanting to offend him, “I think I get the fundamental problem. I’m sorry, I know I’m being a major dork. Bear with me.” She let her fingers run over a harden nipple beneath his shirt. He hissed, tightening his hold on her. “Basically, if I understand you right, there are two competing principles in your political order. Gerontocratic rule doesn’t preclude intergenerational squabbling. People of equal age are more or less fairly matched in strengths and weaknesses, no? So baby vamps can gang up on baby vamps, elders on elders. At the same time, your hierarchies are shot through with various lineage allegiances. As Godric is to you, you are to Pam. Generally speaking then, one’s position as an elder B.C. badass of the land gets complicated by whatever drama he’s got going on in his family.”

“B.C. badass?”

“Yeah, you know. Before Christ, old man!”

Eric let out a low, seductive growl. Listening to her unravel his mysteries like a kid giddily tearing off wrapping paper at Christmas made him intensely aroused. Her stroking his chest didn’t help matters. He wanted all of her. Now. “Yield to me, Lila,” he whispered huskily.

“Eric! I’m being serious!” she swatted at him. “You still haven’t told me why did this Daniel Greysolon character rang a bell for you? How was hiring Longshadow a favor to him?”

“I  _am_ being serious. Yield maiden!” he grinned lustily, flashing the razor sharp tips of his canines.

“Dammit Viking!

“Ah,  _min nyfikna blomma_  [my curious flower],  _that_ is a whole story unto itself. But I’m afraid you’ll just have to wait! Dawn is approaching, and I believe you enjoyed tucking me in. Come along now.” Faster than her eyes could register, he whisked her off the couch, tossed her over one shoulder, and walked down the hall to the bedroom. Lillian barely had a moment to implore Pam for help.

“Pamela, rescue me from this big brute!” The bedroom door had already shut. Pam was still filing at her nails in boredom.

“Oh, the Viking always takes what he wants, sweetbean.”


	6. Trust Me

Eric tossed Lillian onto the bed and backed up against the door, taking in the glorious vision of her. She gazed back at him in astonishment, her bewitching hazel eyes playful and sultry. Golden brown tendrils of her long hair pooled around her shoulders and arms. Eric’s senses were overwhelmed with lust and hunger and a riot of other unnameable desires. A shadow of a thought passed across Lillian’s eyes, and she knit her brow. Then her eyes grew wide.

Vampire emotions were so mercurial, the speed at which they morphed was dizzying. In 0 to 60 Eric had gone from philosophical, quietly passionate, to powerfully dominant, swept away in his own excitement. All in the blink of an eye. In private, away from other humans, everything about him moved either too quickly or too slowly. He didn’t suppress his real nature. Earlier, the reverent way he spoke of his maker and the distant, almost sad look in his eyes had disarmed her, drew her in without her even realizing it. She wasn’t expecting him to grab her so abruptly and kiss her, almost desperate for her affection. After being more terrified than she’d ever been in her life, the sudden proximity and tenderness he had shown her was profoundly comforting. But now, the tall man leaned against the door, unmoving, unbreathing. He stared at her unblinking under heavy lidded eyes, his body tensed, ready to strike. He was watching her, the pupils of his ice-chip eyes had dilated into black pools, the better to track her every move.  _Like prey_. His nostrils flared, testing her scent, and his fangs had slid completely down.

Eric wasn’t just a man. This man was vampire. And she’d let herself forget that. In fact, she hadn’t even had time to really consider it. In all the adrenaline and fear and relief during the previous night, she’d let herself, without even thinking, give in to her own attraction to Eric – which was of course really an attraction to Eric as she thought him human. She’d protected him. She’d licked his fucking fangs for crying out loud. And then tonight. All her idiotic questions about  _their_  culture, when she should have been seriously questioning what Eric and Pam’s intentions were for  _her_. She’d let her curiosity over the puzzle of Longshadow’s motivations ally her to their cause because of the shadow of a possibility that this had anything remotely to do with her. She hadn’t pressed Eric further on the whole feeding on human blood and memory wiping issue. Alone now, she saw him more clearly for what he was. This wasn’t a game. He was a predator, and there was nothing sexy or alluring about the prospect of being hurt. Her heart started pounding out a horrible rhythm as she began to panic.

“Eric…” He responded in a low, guttural growl. “Eric, you’re scaring me!” She backed up to the edge of the bed, pulling the shredded cream comforter with her. There was only one way out of the room and his massive frame was blocking it.

He blinked slowly, steadying himself. His demeanor uncoiled and he held his hands up, as if to show her he was unarmed. Then he sat on the bed, turning his back to her. He was quiet for a moment. “I got carried away. You…excite me. I forget myself around you. You don’t act like a human should, knowing what you know now.”

“Yeah, well I’m just realizing that too.”

“Everything has happened too quickly. You haven’t had time to digest it all.” He hung his head down and ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t sure if he was saying this to her or to himself. He might as well admit that Pam wasn’t entirely wrong. He did need to work through the potential consequences of what was happening. He wasn’t even confident that he knew what was happening just now. Lillian was enticing in so many ways, and he found himself wanting to please her, be near her. He’d never had any intention of revealing his true nature to her, but that had flown right out the window. Reflecting on it now, he was shocked at how easily she had disarmed him into being, well,  _himself_  around her. He wasn’t just showing her his vampire speed, not bothering to feign breathing or the sluggish movements and ticks of mortals. No, it was even worse. He was also being casual with her. She was right to be frightened. He never behaved this way around anyone but his closest vampire confidantes.

Even more disturbing were the wayward thoughts that crossed his mind when he was with her – blood bonds of all things! Had he gone mad? When he was speaking earlier of avoiding attachments, he had been careful not to elaborate that this included humans as well. Why had he equivocated, sidestepping this hard truth? Did he do that for her sake or his own? While he’d had a great many human friends in his lifetime, he kept them at arm’s length and kept his emotions out of the relationships. People came and went. You enjoyed them while you could and accepted it when they or you had to move on. The last time he’d become fond of someone…well, the sharp-tongued harpy was just outside the door getting ready to slide into the light-tight room under the entryway coat closet. Even Pam had not known his secret until he’d already decided her fate.

But his current indiscretions didn’t stop there. No, they were twofold. He could not take human lovers without glamouring them into oblivion, as it was nearly impossible to hide his body temperature and he virtually always fed on them. No pleasure was greater. Keeping any one person around for very long, however, was unfair to the human and insipidly dull for him; repeated glamour damaged their minds and subsequently, their personalities. Exposing his true self was not an option. To do so was to court chaos and invite final death, Godric had made that resoundingly clear. Had Eric not witnessed with his own eyes the deaths of more than a few of his kind for precisely such foolishness? And what had he done when Pam had erred in a similar fashion? He could never forget the harsh words he’d hissed at her when he rescued her from nearly being staked by a farm girl: “Blood of my blood, play with your life and I shall take it back from you!” He dealt her the greatest humiliation a maker could inflict. He’d drained his beloved child within an inch of her life for almost abandoning him to his eternity. It was a double punishment: she had been weakened for over a year and worse, had to suffer seeing Eric bear the burden of a child whose frailty endangered him. It was a lesson she would never forget.

But alas, here he was. Was he not already treating Lillian as a friend, unknowingly allowing his closely guarded affections to unfurl? Did he not intend to take her as a lover? What the hell was he just about to do? Fuck and feast on a friend who knew him for what he was?! No wonder he’d terrified her. He must have looked monstrous. He came to, realizing he must have been in downtime for more than an hour trying to process his thoughts.

“Gods, Lila!” He stood in horror, refusing to look at her. “I have acted selfishly.” This was as close to actually asking for forgiveness as Eric Northman came. “I too have been caught up in things to fully absorb the…effect…you have upon me. I should have considered in turn how that affects you as well. If it’s any consolation, your influence on me…has me rather worried.”

“ _You’re_  worried!” She hoisted herself up from the wall she’d been crouching against. “I wasn’t sure  _what_  you were going to do to me,” she spat angrily.

Dawn was closing in on him. They didn’t have time for this argument. Screw it. Honesty seemed to work with her better than anything else.

“I know. I wanted to fuck you and bite you.”

“And you said I’m safe with you! You’re a liar. Fuck you and your supposed self-control.”

“Lover, please. Calm down.”

“Don’t you ‘lover’ me!”

“Lila!”

“Stop calling me  _Lee-lah,_ ” she mocked the pronunciation of his nickname for her.

“Damn you, woman!” he began to pace between the bed and door. “You bewitch me! With your laugh, your wit, your beauty. Your company…it feels so natural that I let my guard down. But it isn’t natural, it goes against everything I know! You make me break every rule I hold myself to. I hadn’t even realized it myself until I frightened you.”

“Oh  _I_ make you act like a murderous beast?”

“Lila, never! I would never hurt you.”

“Oh no? That wouldn’t by any chance be in the same high holy moral code you blame  _me_  for making you hastily abandon the second you get a boner?”

“I tell you I want to have passionate sex with you and you accuse me of wanting to kill you?! You don’t know what you’re saying. To drink from you would be ecstasy.”

“I’m sure!  _FOR YOU_!”

Eric bit his cheek hard to restrain himself. Blood streamed over his tongue. Under any other circumstance, with any other creature, he’d retort with a suggestive comment and probably feel her up. He’d never really had to put much thought into convincing someone to melt in his hands. But seduction was not the right tactic now.

“Not just for me, Lillian. For you too. It doesn’t have to hurt. It most certainly would not hurt.”

“Yeah right. I must be crazy. I should have run at the first chance I had, in fact – “

He cut her off immediately “But you didn’t, did you.” Better to trip her on her own logic.  _Don’t leave,_  he willed at her.

She hesitated. “No, I didn’t. I…”

“Now why is that, do you think?”

“I…I don’t know why…I didn’t have time to think! It happened so fast!”

He thanked the gods. He was regaining control of the conversation. “Oh, I think you did have time. All day you sat up, you  _forced_  yourself to stay awake. You watched me sleep, you combed my hair.”

Shit. He knew she had done that.

“No, Lila,” he purred. “I think you thought about me all day long. You want me. You are attracted to me even more so now because you  _do_ see me for what I am. So you can’t tell the difference between me being driven wild by the desire to pleasure you in every way I know how and some out of control newborn vampire in full bloodlust? That is only a matter of education. Tell me, would you rather I had glamoured you into surrendering yourself, taking your will from you, making you blind to me and what sets me apart as vampire? Would you want to forget the entire experience?”

Lillian felt faint. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess.

“Hm?” he pressed. “I thought you begged me  _not_ to make you forget?”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” he said innocently.

“Trying to manipulate me into let my guard down. It’s not going to work.”

“No, lover. I’m not trying to convince you to not be wary. You are far too intelligent for that. I’m trying to convince you that what you lack is a modicum of trust. That’s all I am asking of you.”

She guffawed. “Trust?! How could you even speak of trust to me?!”

“I say it because ‘trust no one’ might as well be a motto tattooed across my undead heart. And yet…you’ve earned a bit of mine.” He sat on the bed and beckoned her to join him. She stayed pinned against the wall. “You wrung it from me against my will, really. I’d never have given it knowingly. But there it is, all the same, the moment I realized what you had done. I had fully expected you to not come back for me in the club, to steal my car and save yourself, but you returned. As I fought the sun to stay awake, you feared my hunger knowing how my lifeblood poured out of me, sapping my strength. But did you run when you had the chance? No. You tried to find me suitable food. Again and again, you had the chance to escape, but you stayed. When you stared at me in my day death, a monstrous unmoving corpse, you knew that the very same horror was what was after us, so you armed yourself as best you could and protected us both, fearlessly. And though I am the most feared and loathed creature of the night, you saw me covered in my own blood and you worried over the dignity of my preternatural flesh. So what did you do, Lila? You did your best to clean me up.”

Lillian went and sat on the edge of the bed next to him, stunned. “I thought you compelled me,” she said in a small voice. “I couldn’t figure out why else I didn’t leave.” Eric and gently turned her chin to meet his face. He needed her to look at him. To know.

“I did  _not_.” He rasped sharply. He paused to let it sink in. “Even if I had wanted to, I didn’t have the strength once the sun came up.”

“So you wished you had.” It wasn’t a question.

“Lillian, I told you I am concerned about your effect on me.” What was he about to do? Admit weakness? Never. This was simply…the truth. “What concerns me is that I didn’t even consider it.”

Eric could feel the heavy pull of the rising sun in his chest. There was simply no more time, unless he wanted a repeat of the previous evening. He pulled a set of keys out of his jeans pocket and clasped her hand to them.

“The sun is nearly up and I must sleep. These are to the Escalade in the garage and the house. It is your choice whether you want to stay. Lila, I will never compel you against your will,  _jag svär_ [I swear]. Know that I cannot protect you if you leave. I’m not convinced Longshadow meant to shut you in with me or even that he knew he had when he did, but it is up to you to decide what you wish to do.”

He stood up and solemnly kissed the top of her head, praying to the old gods that he would find her there come sundown. He had intended on sleeping in the bedroom closet crawl space, but he needed to give Lillian room. He went out into the living area, found the hidden keypad in the entryway closet, and entered the code to slide open the secret panel in the floor. Pam was already asleep, and there was just enough space for his long frame to crawl in. His child knew him so well. He was certain it was going to be decades before she let him live down the fact that she had been right all along. He wrapped his arms around his child and buried his face in her golden hair, letting the sun take him into oblivion.

♦♦♦

Pam woke with a start, realizing she wasn’t alone. Eric’s heady scent filled the tiny room, along with her own. Her maker was curled protectively around her, something that hadn’t happened for many, many years. A heavy arm pulled her closer into his chest, and he inhaled the distinctive perfume of her hair. He had been awake for some time, being so much older than she.

“Eric?” 

He grunted. So much for answers.

“Are you okay?”

“Am I not allowed to snuggle with my one and only progeny?” Pam giggled, something she only ever did in front of her maker. She leaned back into his chest. His proximity soothed her. She could not remember a time when she had been more worried for him.

“What happened?”

“We can discuss it later.”

“And here I thought you were in a mood for sharing.” He was quiet for a moment, and caressed his child’s face in the dark. She was his fierce lioness. Clever, conniving, beautiful, and loyal to him beyond measure.

“Actually, I am in the mood for sharing.”

Pam went rigid. “Please don’t tell me you want to try fucking again,” she said, exasperated. They had briefly attempted being lovers in the early days after her turning, but Pam’s tastes simply lay elsewhere.

He chuckled hoarsely. “Thank you for your vote of confidence. You hold the distinction of being the only woman whom I ever caused to yawn while straddled atop my perfect cock. And, Pam?”

“What Eric.”

“Vampires don’t yawn.”

She smiled in the dark. Then, thinking about the character of the scent wafting around her, she realized he had not had Lillian. “Did your pet deny you too? Is that why you’re jammed down here?”

“I said we can discuss it later.”

“Then did you come here because you missed your little Pammy wammy poodle?”

“Don’t ever let me hear you calling yourself that again.”

“You don’t miss me even a widdle piddle?”

“Pam. Shall I command you?” She was trying to cheer him up. She hated when Eric pulled these stunts. The torrent of emotions that pealed through his end of their bond was beyond taxing to her. It was like being dragged on a rollercoaster blindfolded and told the ride may never end. In moments like this, she was forced to wait out the storm. He only ever broke out the big guns these days – the threat of a maker’s command – when he was in a foul mood. It was all the more obnoxious because they both knew damn well he was bluffing.

“What did you want to tell me then?”

“Pamela, you are nearly two centuries old.”

“I am,” she said, surprised he would comment on her age. She had no idea where he was going with this, but she could feel him pulling her to him in the bond.

“Do you remember your first hundredth birthday?”

Now that was a turn she really hadn’t seen coming. “Of course, master,” she gasped, reverting to the submissive term he demanded she use in her youth. “I shall never forget it.” It was an auspicious occasion, a supremely important landmark for her, since a significant number of vampires did not make it beyond what would have been a human lifespan. If you could break through this barrier in time, then generally eternity was yours to lose. Immortality did not come without its ups and downs, this was for sure.

“You did so well in those early years. I was – I am – so proud of you. Do you remember how we celebrated?” She remembered. Vampires do not forget. It was a rite within their family that Godric had passed on. Eric was simply easing her into what he wanted, although she was unsure exactly why.

“My master, blood of my blood.” She spoke the most formal words a child could utter to her maker. It nearly made her mist up. It was an expression of the deepest reverence and love. Eric was pulling harder on the bond, beckoning him to her. To her it felt like the pain of heartbreak, a hollow throbbing line pulling herself out of herself. Only him. Only he could piece her back together again. She managed to turn onto her back in order to see him. The space was awkward and she thunked her head against the floorboards above them. She gazed into his eyes, and he ran his hand over her cheek in chaste affection. They could see each other perfectly well even in the inky blackness of their shelter. “There is no greater honor than what you have already given me, Eric.” It was an extreme supplication, the only formal speech worthy of answering what he was offering her.

“I know that this comes early, but I am unsure of what lies ahead of us.” Pam was still unclear why he wanted this now. She thought what was about to happen was only done every century in their bloodline.

“In times like these, Pamela, my maker always drew me to him to protect me, to ensure I was strong enough to survive the fight to come.” The pull in her chest was becoming unbearable. If she could crawl inside Eric to escape it, she would. It was the siren song of her maker’s blood. He was calling to her with his entire force. “You were right to challenge me about Lillian. I am drawn to her like a moth to a flame, so fascinated that I risk burning up in my desire for her light. I have not been thinking clearly. I endangered us. And this business with Longshadow feels entirely wrong. None of it makes sense, and my only instinct tells me that if the evidence we have before us is so illogical, the puzzle pieces must be larger. There is something far more dangerous happening. What, I do not yet know.” Pam couldn’t stand the strength of his influence any more, she had to stop it, but only his consent would release her. She was now pressed against his chest, her face buried in his neck, breathing in ragged gasps of his scent. She felt she would shatter at any moment if he did not give her permission to do what had to be done. He wanted to bless her with a ‘little making,” a renewal of her transformation so long ago.

“You are my only child, as I am the only child of Godric. Our line is old and strong, and it goes undiluted. Drink from me once more, my dearest child, and let us both grow stronger so that we may always walk the nights together.” He placed a hand on the back of her head, an arm around her waist.

Pam sunk her teeth into his neck. The cord snapped, and she was flooded not just with relief, but the very essence of life itself. She drew hard pulls on him, and he gasped and braced himself with one hand against the wall. Pam’s mind was set ablaze with Eric’s memories, images and thoughts soared through her. She saw  _everything_  in him. She felt his deep need for Lillian, he craved her in every way possible, and the desire was tangled in a snarl of emotions. She moved past it, swimming through his happiest recollections, his darkest days. She drank deeply, working her fangs around to keep his bloodline open to her.  _Connect, connect, only connect_. He was still urging her on. She was gorging herself, and there wasn’t much more she could take. Eric was so much larger than her. She started to feel grotesquely full, and began to swoon as she choked back what she drank. Eric turned her head roughly to the side and bit, relieving her now of the pressure and taking from her what he had given long ago, what he was giving her now. Recirculating their blood as it aged, Godric had explained, accelerated the development of their powers and often compounded the inheritance of multiple rare gifts far more rapidly than time alone could. In times of peril, this secret rite was an extremely dangerous weapon in their family’s arsenal. Eric knew of no other bloodline so old and shared between so few.

Opening the full blood bond between maker and child was an ineffable, mystical thing. One might mistakenly think that, because of the intimacy, it would be akin to lovemaking. It is nothing of the sort. It is more like the love and connection of an unborn child warm and safe within its mother, only in this case, parent, child, and every other ancestor meet and merge in a cosmic plane existing only within them, a womb enveloping them all in the red mist of their magic blood. Only they were no longer themselves. They were One blood. It was the dissolution of being into total and complete knowledge of Self, and this Self was everyone who lived in their bloodline. Their lineage was a single unending life force full of time and vision, swelling with emotion and connection, and above all, awareness spreading out in every direction. At the dark crimson edges was Godric. His thoughts rustled around them, although these were less distinct. But he was contented feeling his children, and he sent his joy singing around them, holding them in, binding them all. Beyond him still was a darkness, and though it did not stir, something lay there silently.

Eric and Pam stayed that way for a while, entirely still save for a few movements necessary to keep the connection. It was a perfect circuit, without beginning or end, and it was for all time.


	7. Interrogations

Gently, Eric broke away from Pam, and she disengaged as well. It went against a child’s nature to seek her maker’s blood. It was only with the fierce call of his bond that he could compel her to transgress the sacred integrity of his body. Eric pushed a heavy curl away from her eyes, revealing crimson tinged tear streaks stained across her face. Neither needed to say a word. At peace with the world, he lay quietly, unwilling to break the magic calm suspending them.

Then Pamela spoke. “You sure know how to make an apology.” Leave it to her to shatter an austere moment with some irreverent comment. He couldn’t hold it against her, and he started to laugh uncontrollably. Back to reality. Until now, he had willed himself not hear anything beyond their bond. He let his senses spread throughout the surrounding house. 

Silence. No heartbeat. No breath.

The house was empty. His entire frame went cold, stony, locking everything away.

 _Feel nothing,_ he commanded himself.

He pushed the lever in the floor and released the door, offering a hand to help Pamela out. They began their evening as though nothing unusual had happened. Pamela primped herself in the bathroom and Eric worked through emails on his phone. Late last night, Chow had sent him flagged a section of the club’s surveillance footage for review. What he saw galled him to his very core. When Pam emerged from preening, she traipsed tartly across the living room. “I’m fixing something to eat. I’m starved, you sucked the life out of me.”

Eric raised an eyebrow at his impertinent, brat of a child. “No doubt. It is why you are radiating beauty and power.” It was true. She was positively glowing. The exchange had similarly affected Eric. He’d never looked so rock hard; his physique emanated a commanding strength. His golden mane looked alive and his eyes were alight with a fire, although Pam said nothing about the hardness set behind his gaze.

“Longshadow came back to retrieve his prize last night, with the aid of two human hillbillies. The fool didn’t even have the sense to get them to dress for the club. Chow spotted them immediately.”

“Good. I hope you let me play with him. Nobody fucks with my maker.”

“For sure. He will suffer greatly for this.”

Pam dug around in the freezer and pulled out a Styrofoam box with a yellow and black biohazard symbol. She turned the stove on and set a pot of water to warm.

“What will you have?”

Eric thought about it momentarily. “O pos,” he grumbled. She kept her mouth shut. Lillian, she knew by her delectable scent, was the same.

Slowly the frozen bags warmed. It was a delicate operation – like making hollandaise sauce, she recalled from some long ago memory. Once the water was barely simmering, she set the bags in a bowl on top of the pot, letting the steam slowly heat the bagged blood. Too hasty and the plastic in the bag would start to melt, fouling the meal; or worse, the bag would break entirely, just like accidentally curdling eggs in cream. She did not want scrambled blood.

Eric’s phone buzzed. “Chow,” he answered curtly. 

“I got him. He was hiding in a trailer with the two humans he came in with last night. Warehouse, master?”

“Yes. We will be there shortly. Was there anything to learn from his pets?”

“No, they’d been glamoured into helping him. Something about them being promised Indy 500 tickets in return.”

“Glamour them to forget Longshadow and remind them to  _never_ step foot in my establishment again.”

Pam hovered over the stove like a deranged housewife. The water temperature was nearly there. She startled suddenly from a sound in the garage. The garage door pulley was making its mechanical whine. She caught Eric’s stare. There was a rustling sound, the bang of a car door. Then a struggle at the keyhole as something swished and rapped against the door. Eric stayed frozen, resisting every urge to jump up. Finally the door opened and in came Lillian bearing an absurd load of shopping bags. She had a big grin on her face.

“Oh! Hi guys. You’re up.” She let the huge burden of plastic sacs drop on the floor and kicked the garage door closed with a foot. Pam and Eric stared, and Lillian shifted her gaze back and forth between the two. “Wow, you both look really nice tonight!” She couldn’t put her finger on what it was, but they were radiant.

Then Pam swore. “Shit!” She snatched the bowl off the pot and tossed it in the sink, yanking open the faucet. She’d nearly ruined their meal with the distraction.

Eric hadn’t taken his eyes off Lillian. She had come back. She was here. His Lila. Lillian was digging through her purchases and stopped, realizing Eric hadn’t said a word and was staring a hole in her. “Sorry, I got caught in traffic. I thought I’d be back by the time you were up. Didn’t you see my note?” He shook his head in the negative. “Oh, well I wasn’t sure where one leaves a note for a vampire. The fridge seemed improper.” Her eyes suddenly drifted over to Pam, who was sporting an apron and doing something involving pots and pans.

“Are you  _cooking_?”

Pam grinned evilly. “Sort of.” She handed Eric his bag. Snapping the cap off the top of her own, she threw her head back.

“Oh yuck.”

“Ithss goodth” Pam lisped, still drinking. “Wanthsumm?”

“Uh, I’ll pass, thanks.” In a twisted way, it was oddly comforting seeing them eating, knowing it at least momentarily took her off the menu.

“It’s overcooked,” Eric mumbled, focusing back on Lillian. “Where did you leave a note?”

“I put it on the bedside table. I thought if I wasn’t back in time you’d go in there looking for me. You didn’t?”

“I didn’t have to. I can hear every creature within a half mile of here. I thought you’d made your choice.” He hid his fear well. “Where did you go? It’s not such a great idea to be out past sunset, you know.”

She looked down sheepishly. “So I’ve heard. There are terrible things that go bump in the night.” She hadn’t meant to get caught up in her errands and be gone so long. She sat up all morning, weighing her feelings. It wasn’t an easy choice, and it was hard to know whether she was making the right one, but she decided to stick it out just for a few days until she knew she was safe from Longshadow. She had panicked last night. Even though she still had pretty major reservations, Eric had shown her he felt the same way – they both had fears about each other. They both felt vulnerable to each other in different ways, and mutually recognizing this, she felt that gave them a wary alliance. Without thinking, they had both given each other at least a little benefit of the doubt. That was something. A thin something, but a place to start nevertheless.

“I figured if I was gonna stay here a couple more days to ride out whatever shitstorm you’ve caught me up in, I at least needed a few supplies.” She pulled out a box of silverware and slapped it up on the kitchen counter, eyeing Eric meaningfully. She had more food, toiletries, and a new comforter. As she emptied out her spoils, he caught the glint of something heavy swinging about her neck.

“Lila, what is that? I haven’t seen you wear that before.”

“I know.” She went and stood in front of him where he sat on the couch, his big feet kicked up on the cheap coffee table. She set her hands on her hips. He raised an eyebrow sharply.

“If I’m gonna stick around, you better keep yourself in check. This is your reminder. Nobody lays a fang on me, and you’d do well to keep in mind that it was with some of my help and quick thinking that you got out by the skin of your teeth.” A fairly heavy silver chain hung around her neck with a round pendant. It was made from the impression of an old coin. Eric started laughing, recognizing what it was – a reproduction of a tetradrachmae coin, a piece of silver worth four drachmae. It bore the image of an owl and the Greek letters AOE.

“Flip it over, lover?” She did, revealing the delicately carved face of a beautiful woman. It had been a long time since he’d seen one of these. “Ah. The owl of wisdom. I shall never forget that you were my goddess of knowledge in the night. You are every ounce my Athena.”

Pam sidled over to see for herself. “Didn’t some philosopher you made me read say that only at dusk does Athena’s owl spread its wings and fly?”

“Yes, Pam,” Lillian answered before Eric could respond. “It means that knowledge only comes after the day has come and gone. In other words, hindsight is 20/20, and if either of you fail me in your promise to never harm me, I hope to hell that knowledge haunts you for the rest of your undying days. This is to remind you that I am mortal.”

“Where on earth did you find it?”

“Walmart baby! Who knew?” She grinned. “Oh and also…”

“Hm?” replied Eric, amused.

“If you fuck around I’ll use this bad boy in a heartbeat. I presume the silver thing is true?”

Eric howled in laughter. “Your point is fully taken. Pam, I have already sworn my pledge to protect her. I ask you to do as well.”

“Fine, but this is between us girls. Go fuck off for a minute.” He held his hands up in acquiescence.

“I meant to go clean out my car anyways. It’s still a mess in there.”

That reminded Lillian. “Eric? I meant to ask you. I thought maybe the SUV had the same glove box thingy as the Ferrari when I took it out this afternoon. It didn’t. I never asked you what in the world that was for?”

“It’s a frequency jammer of sorts. I assumed someone may have put a tracker on the car. It doesn’t block the signal, it redirects it through a satellite making whomever is watching the device think I’ve headed in an entirely different direction. I’m glad you remembered to use it, because I did find a bug under the chassis. If it’s still being monitored, it’ll look like I’m somewhere west of Phoenix by now.” He smirked, pleased with himself.

“Does the tracking bug give us any clues about who put it there?”

“Unfortunately no. Kind of upper end, but nothing unique enough to be traceable.”

“Too bad.”

“Indeed.” He headed out into the garage, leaving the two of them alone. Pam took Lillian by the hand and sat her them both down. She reached over and tapped around on her laptop. It started playing Orff’s Carmina Burana. Very loud. She increased the volume until it hurt Lillian’s ears.

“Pam…what the…”

“I need to say something to you, and I don’t want Eric to hear. This is between you and me. I don’t pretend to entirely understand your hold on him, but I’ve never seen Eric so attached to anyone.”

Lillian shook her head disbelieving, “Oh come on, Pam. I see how he is with you, how he speaks of his maker. You’re joking.”

“His attachment to his bloodkin is entirely different, Lillian. You must understand me. Whatever is going on between you two, you need to figure it out and fast. Something is brewing in our world and neither of us know what it is. He needs to get his head out of his ass and start thinking clearly, and he needs you to help him do that. He’ll never admit it, but it’s the truth. All of our lives may depend on it.”

“How could you possibly know…”

“Don’t make me waste time explaining. I know him, and something has changed since you came into our lives a month ago.” Looking her dead in the eyes, Pam continued. “I swear to protect you, Lillian. I will never harm you. You please my master, and whatever he wants, I want it for him.”

Lillian was once again stunned into silence. She was about to thank Pam for her honesty, when a giant Viking came tromping in holding a wad of pink stained paper towels and a spray bottle.

“Alright. Girltime is over. Pam, turn that racket off.”

“Will she live to ride another day?” Pam joked.

“I believe so. Nothing like a millennium to perfect one’s bloodstain removal technique.”

Lillian shivered, knowing it was probably  _other_ people’s blood he likely spent him time wiping up.

“So, are we ready for tonight’s fun?”

Pam rubbed her hands together. “Let me get my bag of tricks.” Most girls carried a compact in their purses. Pamela, however, kept silver dipped pliers and a selection of other vile instruments.

“Lillian, Chow has caught up with Longshadow, and we’re headed out to see him. Even though we have him now, it will likely take a few days to get him to talk. Stay until then?” For her sake, he almost managed to make it sound like a question rather than an order.

She nodded, then standing on tiptoes and carefully covering her necklace with one hand, gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for being patient with me. Be careful tonight.”

“Stay inside and don’t answer the door for anyone, ok? I have my cell if anything happens, and there’s a bunch of movies on Pam’s laptop if you get bored.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

She heard the Ferrari F12 Berlinetta fire up, and the engine roared as her two vampire companions tore off down the road.

~OOO~

Not surprisingly, Eric had been right about how lengthy the interrogation might be. On the first night, Longshadow refused to talk. Only by the end of the second day did Eric and Pam came home reporting that they were starting to get the information they were after. But they were cagey about sharing, saying it was early yet and some of what he was saying might be misdirection. The days were long and boring for Lillian. She stayed shut up in the safe house writing up transcripts of her interviews, reviewing notes, and taking movie breaks on Pam’s laptop. It turned out that Pam had rather…eclectic…tastes when it came to her video library. As far as Lillian could tell, Pam owned only fluffy rom-coms or stomach-turning horror films. Suffice it to say that Lillian had to endure the former, as the slasher flicks were out of the question for her. She tried not to dwell too much on the goofy plots and their inevitable, highly improbable happy endings. It only stressed her out about her own current situation. Since her (rightly deserved) freak out over realizing the guy she had sorta kinda maybe been thinking about having a relationship with was a vampire, she had no idea what to do next. To make matters worse, Eric had completely cooled on her. He wasn’t treating her indifferently, but he stopped making his usual suggestive remarks and hadn’t tried to kiss her again. She thought that when she chose to stay he would be happy, but he hadn’t even gotten off the couch when she’d returned! It was all the more confusing given his talk about how she ‘bewitched him’ and that he wanted her trust. Not to mention that Pam thought Eric was unusually attached to her, that Lillian affected his happiness. She could only assume that since he’d said their association was unnatural and dangerous that he must have reconsidered whatever it was he had wanted before. Which was maybe nothing more that what he’d said he’d wanted that night – a fuck and a bite to eat. What she wasn’t expecting was how much that realization saddened her. This is what she got for daring to hope.

Nothing about her chosen career had been made easy by the fact that she was a decently attractive, outgoing woman. Her male colleagues talked over her, her students didn’t take her as seriously. She had to work twice as hard to earn the same, or sometimes for even less, than her male counterparts. As a result, her worklife consumed far too much of her time, and it made meeting someone difficult. Plus, it was hard to find a date with a guy who wasn’t threatened by her intelligence or modest success. She’d been lonely back in Massachusetts, and it didn’t seem like there was anything that would change that. The thought started to gnaw at her, and it was why she had, for the first time ever, even considered trying to strike up something with someone involved in her research. Sure Eric came off as egotistical and high-handed, but that was mostly a superficial shield meant to deflect attention to his other qualities. He was also brilliant, witty, worldly, and fun. No one could have predicted the kind of baggage he was carrying.

She had been replaying this circular conversation in her head yet again when she heard Pam and Eric roll in. It was earlier than the previous two days, only 2am. She heard a commotion in the garage. They came in both covered in blood spatters and Eric was yelling at Pam in a foreign language and gesturing at his arm. It had a pattern of deep raw marks in the flesh and the edges were scorched.

“Oh my god, what happened! Are you okay?” cried Lillian. Eric ignored her and went straight to the fridge to pull out an already defrosted bag of blood. She’d compromised on letting them keep their meals in the same fridge as her own food, even though it still was pretty icky. Their stuff stayed out of sight in the crisper, and her stuff was on the top shelf. He ripped the corner out with his mouth and drained it with a grimace – unheated it must be especially foul. In quick succession he pulled out another bag and downed it too.

“Fucking Chow. He lost his grip on Longshadow and he managed to wing one of his silver chains at me. How am I supposed to get any work done if my underlings are so incompetent?” The wound was already sealing now.

“Uh, I’m going to go out on a ledge and guess that Longshadow is no more?”

“Oh no, honey. That would be too kind, but we’re done with him for the moment. It is safe for you to go home now,” Pam said. Lillian gulped, knowing that given all the blood, whatever they’d done was to him was horrific. So much for Eric’s “vampires are totally peaceful” load of bull. She knew she had smelled a rat.

“Are you going to be ok?”

“It’ll heal in a bit. The silver slows the healing,” Eric said, inspecting the wound’s progress. “Why don’t you collect your things while I get a shower. Then I’ll take you over to Trädkojan.”

“To where?”

“To The Treehouse. That’s the name of the place you’re staying in.”

“Traya-what was that?”

“Tree-yed-koy-yan” he sounded it out for her.

“I like that. Huh. My first impression of the place was that it springs right out of the forest just as if it were another tree.” He smiled weakly, then disappeared into the bathroom.

At vamp speed, he was ready to leave in a few minutes. It was a good thing she only had a couple sacs, because Eric’s trunk wouldn’t have fit much more. She’d tried not to get emotional when she said bye to Pam, but she couldn’t help but realize that this was the end of the road. She probably wouldn’t see them much more. How quickly she’d adjusted to their little routines, even in just a few short days. Eric seemed to be driving less like a maniac than usual, maybe to keep her from getting car sick. She stared out the window, her chin slumped in her hand, watching the street lamps and the run-down businesses pass by.

“You are quiet,” Eric said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, sorry.”

A long minute passed, and he spoke again. “I do not have the gift of mind reading.” She turned to look at him.

“Don’t you?” she said sarcastically.

“Tell me what has you so engrossed out the window. Is it the lovely view of our fine town?” Now it was his turn to be a shit.

“Argh. No, Eric. I’m just bummed is all. I guess I won’t see you guys much anymore.”

“Won’t you?”

“Will I?”

Oh, christ this was an unnecessarily awkward conversation. She was going to have to pave the way if she wanted Eric to talk.

“I guess…I was just starting to get used to you.”

“And you, are as you say, ‘bummed’ because you want to keep getting used to us?”

“Well, yeah, that’s one way of putting it.”

They lapsed back into silence. Lillian felt like the opportunity to say something, if she was going to say it, was quickly slipping by.

She decided to take the leap. Reaching over, she put her hand on his arm. Her heart was pounding fast, and she knew his senses could pick up on her nervousness.

“Eric…I don’t know what, if anything, is going on between us. I…I guess you decided you don’t want to bother with me. You’ve run hot and cold on me, and I know that’s partly my fault.” He met her gaze, and without looking back to the road, slammed on the breaks and pulled the car onto the weedy shoulder. It scared the bezeesus out of her.

He looked at her intensely, then suddenly he kissed her passionately, his hands everywhere at once (though carefully avoiding the necklace peeking out around her the collar of her lavender blouse).

“MmmuhEric…” she tried to push him back. It was like trying to push a mountain.

“You don’t want it?”

“Ugh! It’s not that I don’t want it. I do. Your kiss sets the world on fire.” It was true. She’d never been so utterly devoured in a most sensual, perfect way. “I just…I can’t read minds either! Can we talk first?”

“Yes, lover, of course.” She breathed a secret sigh of relief. He’d all but entirely stopped calling her that and the host of other Swedish endearments she’d yet to translate. He put the car into gear and pulled back out onto the road. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Well, why did you just kiss me?”

“Because you said you thought I didn’t want you anymore.”

“Okay…” That was one way of going about things. “So you were trying to tell me you do?”

“Yes.” His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“Well, talk to me about that then. What do you want from me?”

He turned to look at her again. “Everything,” he said huskily.

“Eric, jesus, eyes…road!” He just laughed at her and slowly looked back to his driving. He must have perfect peripheral vision.

Her heart must have skipped a beat, either from terror that they were about to crash or from shock at what he’d said. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to explain.”

“It is simple. I want you. I want all of you, all the time.” Her heart stopped again. Nope, it was definitely his effect.

“That’s a bit 0 to 60 in one second, no? You haven’t even looked at me twice this week.”

“I’ve kept my distance because that is what you asked me to do.”

“I didn’t mean for you to stop…you know…being you. I like flirty, witty Eric.”

“Gods, Lillian. Do you know how worried sick I have been knowing how close you came to being hurt or killed on my account?! Longshadow meant to  _take_ me, I believe to drain me for my blood. He almost certainly would have failed, but the thought that you could have been collateral damage in his attempt has driven me mad. All I have been able to think about is how to protect you, as well as Pam and myself,  _and_ how to prove to you that I am trustworthy. I have to think like a vampire to do the former, but you want me to act like a human on the latter count. I’ve had a lot of shit on my mind!”

Her head was swimming with too many questions at once. “Wha…He wanted to take your blood? Why!? Who would want it?”

“He could not tell us. He’s been silenced by a maker’s command.”

“So doesn’t that mean it’s his maker, Greyson or whatever?”

“Greysolon. Yes, it means he is somehow implicated, but it’s hard to know if he’s directly behind it or whether his plan just involved something unrelated about which his maker demanded silence. Still, it is so reckless it borders on madness. I could end both of them before they’d even realize what was happening.”

She considered this.

“Eric, do people take vampire blood as a drug, or use it as a component of one? Like in the novels?”

“I have not heard of such a thing in real life. It would be misery for the vampire supplying the blood, that is for certain. To be connected to so many people that way…it would be worse than schizophrenia…so many people in your head would be torture.”

“Does your blood heal humans? Could a doctor or someone have found out?”

“Yes, it does. But again, I cannot imagine any vampire stupid enough to risk revealing our kind, above all to science. It would be…”

“An automatic death sentence.”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. Did you figure out why he was so desperate for money?”

“That is where it gets even less comprehensible. It wasn’t about the money. But he couldn’t tell us why he needed it. Another roadblock.”

She thought for a moment.

“If somebody had enough of your blood, could you use it to make a child against your will?” His brow furrowed.

“It would make a very weak vampire,  _if_  it succeeded at all. I have only ever known of cases where makers commanded their children to propagate. My maker is alive. Not everyone knows this, but Longshadow certainly is up to speed. If you were heinous enough to attempt such a thing, you would damn sure want to be certain the maker was dead. They would know immediately through the blood bond what had happened and kill both the weakling and the perpetrator.”

“You communicate through the bond, don’t you? I’ve seen you and Pam talking that way.”

He smiled. His Lila loved a challenge. “It’s not really talking, but more like pushing an idea or single vision at the other, wrapped in an emotion or sensation.”

“That’s freaking cool.”

“Yes, it is. Unless you have a primadonna for a child who is constantly sending you the impulse of desperately needing the latest collection from whatever fashion house she’s obsessed with at the moment.”

Lillian threw her head back and laughed. “Oh gods, only Pam! I love it.”

Eric looked at her queerly. “You  _have_ been getting used to spending time around me.” Lillian blushed, realizing she’d subconsciously picked up one of Eric’s favorite phrases. “Well, I’ve always been an equal opportunist when it comes to deities.”

“Is this so? Well, I shall have to tell you about the mighty Thor and the Bifröst, and the tales of Freyja, and describe the great halls of Valhalla…” he was letting himself get carried away.

“Eric. You can recite all of the Poetic Edda to me if you like, but on another night.”

“Is that a promise, lover?”

“Sure.”

“Remember that. I will hold you to it.” In fact, he was thinking of holding her down for a good portion of it. A different position for each story? Match the rhythm to the mood of each tale? Now that would be fun…But he’d need more nights that just one. Gods, he could fill a calendar with his kinky version of the poetic recitation…

“Oh, I’ve no doubt you will,” replied Lillian.

He let a smile snake across his face, pleased they were talking easily again.

They had just pulled up to the neighborhood security gate, and Eric rolled down the window and gave a wave to the guard. It was someone she hadn’t seen before. They pulled through and started down the winding road to the house.

“You were saying it would be hard to make a newborn with just your blood. Why exactly?”

He sighed an unnecessary breath. He had no idea what he was going to do with her, since she seemed hell bent on ferreting out every secret he possessed and he seemed unable to deny her when she looked at him so inquisitively. “Because it is best to repeatedly give the blood and take it back. No one is sure exactly how it works, but you could think of it like draining a battery. Your vampire body takes in and recharges the energy from the battery, then gives it back, drains the energy and recharges it even more than before, etc. To make a  _truly_  great vampire, you must be very old in order to withstand the strain and not discharge your own energy in the process. The human’s body must be very strong as well. You see, the longer maker holds the energy in and lets it charge, the stronger the energy he can give back. But in the meantime the battery is left clinging to life. The maker must be so disciplined to not accidentally let the human die, and the human must have incredible fight in them to survive. To give blood just once, like in the movies…” He shuddered in horror. “I don’t know honestly. The poor creature would barely be vampire.”

He fell silent, lost to a thought. Then almost in a whisper, he said “When I was made, we were very far north in my homelands. The night was the longest in the year. The sun barely rose at all.”

“You mean…” she was stunned, “it took the  _entire_ night?” She had thought he’d meant a couple exchanges must be involved.

“No, min älskare.  _Three entire days_.” Her hand instinctively shot up to her mouth and the other to his thigh, as if to comfort him from the memory. What had this man been through? She had never imagined the price for entering into immortality would be so high.

“Four days, really, if you count the preparation. I was fighting for my kingdom and I had slain Ulrike, avenging my father’s murder. But my wounds were many, and my brothers had already laid me on my funeral pyre. It would have been a good death. An honorable death. But Godric chose me, gods know I did not deserve his gift. He healed me entirely and shaved my beard, trimmed up the ragged warrior prince he’d found. And the next night we began.” He closed his eyes, reliving the moment. “He fought through the bleeds in the daylight and his hunger in the night and still was strong enough to keep going. Three days my master lay at my side.”

She was so humbled that he would share something so intimate, so dumbfounded at the recollection. There was hardly anything to say. “Surely, this is uncommon?”

Eric made the turn into the driveway and parked in front of the house.

“I only know of one other vampire ever made in such a fashion.”

“Who?” she whispered, unable to stop herself.

He looked at her sidelong.

“Pamela.”


	8. The Treehouse

Lillian sat in the car, unable to move. All she could think of was how difficult it had been for Eric just to stay awake even an hour or two after sunrise. She thought about how he’d said he was too weak to even glamour. Even if he’d made Pam where the sun barely rose…such an act…over several days! It must have been excruciating. And it must have been possible only through sheer willpower and determination. She was starting to think differently about what Eric had meant regarding his self-control. And that was nearly 200 years ago.

Eric shut the hood of the car where he’d retrieved her bags, snapped her out of her reverie. “Do you want to spend the night in the car or shall we go in? You have the keys…”

Once inside, Lillian marveled at the house’s appearance in darkness. Eric hadn’t bothered to turn on the lights as they went in, his eyesight being perfectly adapted to the night. The full moon filtered through the trees and cascaded down into the enormous wall of curtain glass that framed two sides of the living room. It pooled and danced on the wood floor.

“Oh Eric!” she gasped in delight. The home was so seamlessly integrated into the surrounding forest that it was hard to tell whether you were inside or outdoors. “It’s like we’re in the middle of a sacred grove, it’s so serene and magical!”

“What makes you say that?” he said, entirely astonished.

“It just is! I feel like a priestess waiting for fireflies and pixies to come skip about my feet. Like we could stand here and watch the animals dance together among the trees!”

“Min Lila,” he stood in front of her, bathed in shadow and moonlight. He gazed over her searching her eyes, caressing her face with the back of his knuckles. “It is impossible. How can you know such things?” he whispered in a low hiss.

“What things?”

He looked at her in a dazed amazement.

“I built Trädkojan for Godric.”

“You did? You’re lending me  _Godric’s_  house?!” The thought panicked her, knowing now just how utterly devoted Eric was to his maker. The sheer weight of the responsibility to care for it properly, even for a short while, made her weak in the knees.

“Well, just this one, yes. He hasn’t been here for a few years. It shouldn’t sit empty. It deserves to have a beautiful flower spreading sunshine and laughter in it. I’d say I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy it sooner, but I’m not. I am thankful I get to be here the first time you see it as it is meant to be seen.” He bent slowly down and kissed her, tenderly and purposefully. Taking her hand, he pulled her over to the front of the glass wall for a better view. He wrapped his arms around Lillian from behind and inhaled her hair. Resting his chin on the top of her head, they both stared out into the blue-grey colors of the night. It was cloudless and this far from the city you could see the stars much more clearly.

“Lila, Godric was a warrior like me in his human life. He too was a leader in his homelands, and there the leaders were also powerful shamans. Godric was lord of his people’s sacred grove. It was in this same grove where he was reborn to darkness.”

She looked up at him. “Your inspiration for the design…I…I can’t imagine a more beautiful gift.”

He nodded solemnly and kissed her again, this time passionately. His mouth was so delicious and sensual. Lillian felt the heat start to rise in her body. She resisted the desire to just tear his clothes off right then and there. “So are all vampires drop dead gorgeous warrior sex god kings or am I just incredibly, incredibly lucky?”

He laughed against her cheek, nosing and then nipping at it. “Just Godric and I, I’m afraid.”

“Mmm, I hope one day I get to meet him too then,” she teased, running her hands over his unbelievably sculpted ass.

He stood back and gave her a wild and hungry look. “Be careful what you wish for, lover, you might just get it.” She giggled, thinking how preposterous it would be that anyone else could even remotely compare to the specimen before her.

Somewhere deep in woods, a barred owl let out a lonely, melodic call.

Eric smiled and pushed a tendril of her hair behind her ear. “Ah, Athena your animals await to dance with you.” Lillian laughed softly and suddenly remembered her necklace. She reached back and unclasped the hook and stuffed it in her pocket. If he’d meant to remind her about it in such an unassuming way, then dang he was good at getting what he wanted.

Freed of her silver, he ran his hands down her neck and let his fingers trail over the peaks of her collarbone. He placed a gentle kiss in the hollow of her throat, letting her rich, perfumed scent fill his lungs. Lillian gasped at the delicacy of his touch. It was such a contrast to his rock hard, powerful countenance. He trailed his tongue to her earlobe and sucked. She couldn’t help digging her nails into his back, and he let out a low growl. His fangs slid down.

“Eric, you won’t hurt me, will you?”

“Never.”

“You promise.”

“On the old gods and the new.”

She blushed, “I think you may have to talk me through this a bit more than you’re used to.”

“Don’t be afraid, lover.” He smiled, then swooped and arm under her legs and carried her up the stairwell.

He walked into the spacious master bedroom and set her down on the bed with a gentle bounce. Her bags and boxes were still scattered about the room. She’d never had the chance to unpack.

“Tell me, goddess!” he commanded, kneeling over her. “How shall I please you first?”

She still didn’t understand it, but in the last few days, Eric seemed even more handsome that usual. He was glowing with life. She reached up and stroked the curve of his perfect mouth and ran a hand over his chiseled chest. His skin was smooth and firm – firmer than a human’s although not uncomfortably so.

“Well, you could start by slowly ravaging me, Viking,” she smiled, letting her hands wander over the bulge in his jeans.

His chest rumbled in a growl and his pupils dilated. It had frightened her so much the first time she’d seen him this way. His growl was entirely animalistic and inhuman. Now she recognized it as his sexy purr. Eric was aroused and entirely focused on her. He placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist, licking and nipping the spot, then lifted the edge of her blouse and settled another one just on the top of her hip. Lillian moaned, feeling his tongue swirl on the sensitive skin there. He slid back up again and nuzzled the side of her neck, inhaling and sucking lightly.

“The rest of the places I’d like to kiss appear to be covered,” he said slowly dragging the tips of his fangs along her neck. She tensed up automatically, feeling her vulnerability.

“Shh, it’s meant to be sensual, lover. Close your eyes and take a slow, deep breath. Just focus on the sensation. I’m not going to bite you, I’m tickling you.” He did it again, breathing cool air along the trail. She shivered in ecstasy. “See?” She opened her eyes. She could feel herself already dripping for him. Running her fingers through his golden hair, she grabbed it and pulled him towards her mouth roughly. She licked the length of one fang, then kissed him deeply.

“You have no idea how sensitive they are. Do it again.” She licked the other, swirling her tongue along the backside of it. He moaned in pleasure and she felt his arms tremble slightly under his weight.

“Gods Lillian, I think you could make me come just doing that.”

“Shall I try?” she asked in a sultry voice.

He growled again and rolled with his vampire speed. Lillian found herself straddled atop him. Beneath his jeans, she could feel his excitement. And it was substantial. With a single movement, he pulled off her lavender top and undid her bra, freeing her glorious breasts. They were perfection.

“Oh Lila, varför måste du dölja dessa?” he sighed, almost in pain. [Oh Lila, why must you hide these?]

“Hmm?” she hummed in a daze as he ran his hands over the intoxicating curves of her body.

“You are cruel to ever wear clothing. Nothing this beautiful should ever be hidden.”

Her mouth crashed upon his, and hands and lips and gasps were everywhere in a heated frenzy. She pulled off his shirt, gasping the first time she pressed her body against the length of his naked chest. Her nipples hardened achingly at how cool he felt, but stilling for a moment, he warmed slightly under her heat. He spun over her again, so fast she felt like the world was upended, and he slid down over the side of the bed, taking her jeans with him. How did he remove clothing so quickly!? He returned, laying a kiss on top of her underwear. He bit the top edge of the delicate lace and pulled them slowly down with his fangs, keeping eye contact with her the entire time. He’d nearly pulled them over her knees when he wretched violently back, bellowing in shock.

“Jävla FAN!” [Fucking HELL!]

So much for the panties. He’d shredded them right off.

“What!? What’s wrong?” she cried.

He shot to his feet far from the bed and had one leg kicked out, inspecting a spot just below his knee. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Your damnable goddess just branded her owl in my fucking leg!”

Lillian covered her mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I completely forgot it.” She wasn’t a total fool, minutes (or had it been hours?) ago she’d slipped her necklace in her pocket, not ready to discard it in case she felt like the situation was getting out of control. When he’d tossed her jeans down it must have fallen out onto the floor and he’d just knelt right down on it.

“Poor darling, come here. Let me see it. Are you okay?”

“Leave it. It will heal.”

He hmphed and pointed at her necklace. “Pick that wretched thing up and put it somewhere safe where your vampire lover won’t accidentally happen upon it, that is, unless you don’t intend on maiming me further?” he raised an eyebrow. “That’s the second silvering I’ve had today. Three is  _not_ a charm.” She’d forgotten about his arm. It was healed entirely, but the skin was shiny where he’d had contact with the chain.

She tucked the necklace in the bedside drawer and he stripped off his jeans and leapt to the bed in a fluid, leonine motion. “Now where were we?” he purred. The way it made his chest ripple was divine, and she couldn’t believe how defined it was. It was simply impossible to keep her hands off him. She ran a thumb across her tongue to wet it and rubbed his nipple. She pinched them both lightly and he broke off his kiss at her jaw in a snarl, clearly it drove him wild. He trailed his tongue over her breasts, devouring them, teasing them. He continued southward, letting his long arms range around her contours. When he reached her thighs, she sat up to relieve him of his boxer briefs. She pulled them down tantalizingly slow, staring at him as he had done to her. He sprang out of them and her eyes widened, staring at what she had to contend with. Gently he lay her back down and nestled his broad shoulders between her thighs, He was taken aback by her flexibility. That was something he would be sure to make good use of. Lillian couldn’t even fathom being this turned out without simply burning up – it was sweet agony. Eric ran his tongue up the sides of her thighs, teasing her even more. She felt him run his fangs over the same sensitive skin and she cried out in pleasure, grabbing handfuls of the sheets.

When he struck at her core with his tongue, she jumped at the cold sensation. He built her up and just as she was about to explode, he stilled completely, leaving her gasping. “Eric! Oh god, don’t stop! Don’t stop!” He looked at her with a devious grin and went back to his ministrations, slipping another finger into her center. He built her back up again and again stopped short. “Aaaaggg! You evil Viking!” she screamed and laughed simultaneously, throwing her head back into the pillow. He kissed the inside of her thigh.

“Lila, I’m going to make you come,” he said, matter of factly.

“Yes,” she said between ragged breaths.

“You’re going to explode all over me, and when you do, I’m going to drink up your orgasm right here.” He ran his fingertips over the spot he’d just kissed. “It won’t hurt. You’re going to come even harder because of it, and then come again. And again. Okay?”

She was too breathless to respond, just shaking her head quickly in agreement. He lapped again at her sensitive nub, growling. The sound set her off and she contracted so hard she thought was going to pass out. She vaguely registered him nipping sharply at her thigh, but he didn’t let up on her, instead massaging her and stroking her with his thumb.

He pulled back, his mouth and fangs shining crimson, urging her on. “That’s my girl. Give me what I want. Come again, lover.” She exploded yet again in quick succession and he sucked greedily at her thigh. She was still riding out the waves of her pleasure as he lazily licked the puncture marks. Lillian felt weightless, almost high.

He slid back up to her mouth and gave her a long kiss. She tasted herself on him. Oddly, it wasn’t unpleasant. “Was I okay?” she asked, curious how her flavor was to him. He closed his eyes, shook his head, and fell back on the bed.

“No good?” her cheeks flushed.

“Min himmel och min älskare [My heaven and my lover], I have dreamt of tasting you the second I met you. Your fragrance is so alluring to me that I couldn’t help scenting you right there on the stage, in front of the entire bar. Pam and Chow thought I’d gone mad it was so overt. My fangs ran completely out, I barely kept them hidden. Just the perfume of your blood wafting through my club, even mingled with all the garish smells, it drove me crazy. I left for a week just to clear my head. The rest of the time I confined myself to my office to keep from embarrassing myself in front of my underlings.” He chuckled. “You’re going to laugh at me when I tell you this.”

“No, I won’t! What?”

“After the club closed in the evenings, I got into the habit of taking a meal in your booth.”

“What!? Eric! You were biting girls in my booth!?”

“No, no, no…Just donor blood. But – gods Pam has had her fun with me on this – it seems like the only thing I can choke down these days is O positive…”

“That’s my blood type…”

“I know.”

She smiled. “Well, that’s not so silly. It’s kind of sweet, you know… in a very creepy, very blood drinking stalker-y kind of way…” He growled and jumped on her, pressing his hard body against hers. Lillian was laughing uncontrollably.

He brushed his lips against her temple. “But nothing compares to how ineffably divine you taste, lover. Now you really musn’t laugh, and this time I mean it.” He narrowed his gaze at her. “You wanted to know how good you tasted?”

He slid himself at her entrance, and pushed slowly. Lillian couldn’t help it, she dug her nails into his back in pleasure. He took all of her then, up to the hilt, and they clung to each other relishing the moment. Her muscles were rippling over him, squeezing. Her senses were so overwhelmed it nearly sent her over the edge. He started rocking his hips into her in a circular motion. She couldn’t help the noises she made then, wrapped in his arms and being ravaged by the gorgeous Viking, exactly as she’d wanted.

Eric’s hair fell about his ears and shoulders. “You wanted to know, Lila, what your taste does to me?” He whispered into her ear heatedly “Having you just now, the taste of your delicious fluids in my mouth, your body writhing under my touch…it made me blow my load all over the side of the bed.”

Her eyes grew wide and she lost control yet again, falling to pieces in his arms. He bit gently at her neck, just grazing it enough to have a light taste. He roughly pulled himself out and, roaring in his own ecstasy, exploded all over her belly.

When she’d recovered (he seemed ready as ever), she thought he’d been been talking dirty just to turn her on.

“You were kidding, right?”

He gave her a fangy grin and shook his head. “Look for yourself if you don’t believe me. You reduced me to a horny teenage boy. You’ve unmanned me, goddess divine. I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so completely fucking blown away.”

“Well, I  _was_ going to ask if it was as good for you as it was for me, but now I see I don’t need to.” She kissed him again. And again. He was too irresistible.

“You do realize the last time that happened to me, I must have been about twelve, right?”

“Twelve?” She heard herself say the word, it almost impossible to imagine it being so long ago.

He shrugged noncommittally. “Milkmaids were hot where I was from.” Lillian laughed wildly and smacked his perfect bum. Trailing her fingers around his shoulders, she thought of his burns.

“How is your leg?”

He pulled a knee up and showed her. There wasn’t a trace. The marks on his arm were gone as well.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?”

“What, lover?”

“That you can heal me and I can heal you. My weakness to you is your hunger and your strength, but yours is that my frailty can take me from you at any minute and without me, you cannot live. Life has a funny sense of balance.” She sighed in utter contentment and he nestled into her neck, wondering anxiously just how true her words were.

“Why didn’t you want to come in me, darling? You can’t impregnate me or make me sick…Did you think I wouldn’t like that or something?”

“My sweet, all of our fluids except our saliva is tinged slightly with our magic blood. Humans seem to love the idea that we cry blood tears. I’m not sure when or why they started believing in their myths that it would work differently elsewhere.”

“Oh…”

He caressed her face and ran a finger over her lips. “The first time I come, it is a very, very minute trace, just enough to make it, how do you say…mind altering bliss. You’ll never know a more potent pleasure. Each subsequent time, however, it becomes more concentrated, enough to create a temporary blood bond. It’s hard to always correctly gauge whether the second, the third, the fourth might….”

“Jeez, how many times can you… do you ever get tired?”

“Nope.” He laughed softly. “Maybe it is the gods’ wish that we respect the ones we have sex with, or else risk suffering through the bond created. Or perhaps it is just to ensure the human becomes yours – another advantage for protecting one’s self. Maybe it is this uncanny balance of which you speak. I’d not thought of it quite this way before. In any case, we were a bit occupied and I didn’t have time to explain.”

“Oh, I see.” She was quiet, thinking back to the moment when he’d sucked his splattered blood off her mouth. She hadn’t realized, it must have been quite a big splatter. Thinking of that first kinda sorta kiss made her shiver.

“Why is your saliva different?”

“It contains an anticoagulant, to help us feed more easily. But our tongues secrete a coagulant, to seal up wounds. So feel free to kiss me all you want, lover…”

She giggled and took advantage of his offer.

“But Lillian?” He pulled slightly away so he could see her clearly.

“Yes min älskare?” She tried to say it as he did.

He smiled in delight to hear such sweet words come from her mouth.

“Lila, I would happily give you my blood if you wanted it…”

The moment he said it, he knew that was exactly what he would do.

“Isn’t that moving a bit fast? Maybe you wouldn’t want me bound to you. I’m not sure I want to be committed to you so soon either.”

“Not a permanent bond. A temporary tie. It would be advantageous to be able to find you anywhere, especially because Pam and I owe Greysolon a visit soon. I don’t like the idea of leaving you now that I’ve only just found you.”

“Is that like the vampire equivalent of ‘let’s be exclusive?'”

Eric gruffed. “I do not share.” His thoughts flickered to his maker. Hadn’t her mention of him earlier nearly driven him insane with lust? Why was this? They’d shared women of course, but neither had ever kept a fully bonded lover. Wait, why was he now thinking of her being fulled bonded?…

“Eric…”

“Hmm?

“Earth to Eric!”

He came to. “What?!”

“Where’d you go just then? You spaced.”

“Sorry,” he smiled languidly. “You give me all sorts of naughty ideas.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Oh yesss,” he purred, kissing her.

“If we bonded, wouldn’t it upset Godric and Pam? Would they feel me too?”

“No lover, a bonded human doesn’t enter into the bloodline like new kin. If you were around them physically, you might feel more comfortable with them, happier to be around them. The blood knows its family. But they couldn’t communicate with you or you with them through the bond. It would just be me feeling your general emotional state.”

They snuggled quietly.

Out of the blue, Lillian had an idea. “Darling?”

“Hmm?”

“About blood bonding…No vampire would dare try to turn someone against your will because they understand that through the bond, your maker would find them and destroy them, right? Longshadow knows Godric lives, he’d never try it. Plus, any vampire would know even blood as strong as yours might fail to make a vampire with only one infusion. It might just make a really strong blood bond and you’d be the only one to feel it and too weak or dead at that point for it to matter.”

“Yes,” he said, wondering where she was going summarizing all these facts.

“What if it’s a con?”

“How so?”

“We know Longshadow was after money, but we don’t know why. We know he was after your blood, but we also don’t know why. Maybe when he got canned, his game at the bar was up and he got desperate. What if Longshadow had the balls to convince a human – someone very wealthy – that he could give them the gift of immortality in exchange for a  _very_ large sum of money?”

“Go on.”

“If he tried to con a human to pay him for ‘immortality’, he could give them your blood, get the money, and glamour them to forget his involvement before they attempted the transformation. The poor human would have no idea what happened, he’d either turn or not turn, but either way he’d be screwed and Longshadow would go undiscovered.”

“Lillian, that’s brilliant.”

“I guess now you just need to fit Greysolon’s role into the picture. Maybe he can explain the money issue. You know, you never did tell me why his name sparked your interest.”

“Well, there’s still not a connection, exactly. But in the past few years, we’ve had a suspicion that something fishy might be happening in his territory. Pam and I monitor missing persons reports around the country. If the statistics seem to suddenly increase in a territory, it raises the concern that there are problems with new vampires. I extended my help to him, but he refused, denying that there was anything wrong.”

“You mean a lot of the people that go missing are taken by…vampires?” A chill shot down her spine.

“No, not all, not by a long shot. There are plenty of human murderers and creeps. There are accidents that get covered up, relatives that take children in custody battles and disappear, or simply economic downturns that mean violent crime overall increases. But in general, a big fluctuation of missing people sets off alarm bells. Young vampires can be unpredictable and they need strong masters to teach them how to live responsibly. You must understand that most vampires are made shoddily – a few blood exchanges in a couple of hours and bam, baby vampire. They are weak and impulsive. They drink too fast and can accidently kill.” He cringed in disgust. Good thing Eric didn’t have a sense of superiority about his own making or anything. Of course, she couldn’t really blame him either.

“So you didn’t totally buy Greysolon’s story that everything was peachy.”

“I have no evidence to the contrary, but Pam hasn’t been up there in several years and it was after she left that we started noticing some irregularities.”

“Up where?”

“The Minnesota area. She was living in Greysolon’s territory doing her own thing until I asked her to join me on the bar venture. She came a year after I’d gotten Fangtasy set up and she brought Longshadow with her as a favor to Greysolon. He’d hoped a change of scenery would help Longshadow deal with how the world has changed since he was human.”

“Huh. You won’t leave tomorrow, will you?”

“No lover, but Pam and I will have to go in a few days. We need to follow up sooner rather than later. Will you continue with your work at the club?”

“Yeah, I probably should get back to it.”

“Then I will arrange for a security detail for you while I am gone.”

“Security!?”

“Just as a precaution. It is because of me that there’s even the slightest chance you could be targeted, and it will be because of me that nothing shall come of it. We can discuss the particulars later. It’s getting near dawn, lover, and as much as I would like to lay here in your arms all day, I’m used to sleeping downstairs.”

“Oh! The windows?”

” The windows here are UVA/UVB light proof like every other freaking thing I own. It’s a pain in the butt to get everything custom installed but thank the gods for the genius who invented that glass. Still, old habits die hard. Shall I tuck you in?”

“Your bedroom is on the first floor?” She hadn’t seen one, just the study and the living rooms.

“Not on the first floor. Below it. Now,” he said, distracting her from asking more questions about his resting place, “there are electronic shutters in here. I imagine you want to have it darker to sleep?” She nodded, realizing how tired she was. He reached over to a remote and an electronic whir drew darkness down on the room.

She yawned. “Eric?”

“Hm?”

“I completely forgot. My car is still at the club. I might need to go out tomorrow. Or today. Whatever. This whole vampire time gets me confused…”

“Take Godric’s Audi. It needs to be driven, that’s why I left you the keys. It’s probably getting a bit punchy after sitting for so long.”

“You mean…you  _don’t_  want to lend me the Berlinetta?” she teased.

“Ha. Dream on, min älskare.”

“I knew your ‘possessions are meaningless’ speech was BS.” She pulled the covers over her shoulder and snuggled in. “I’ll dream of you instead. Is that a compromise?”

“I shall dream of you as well, lover.” Eric gave her a sweet kiss, then quietly headed out the door to put himself to bed.


	9. The Ties That Bind

The small, dinner-only restaurant had closed hours ago, but the owner and creative director was still at work in front of a large brazier of coals perfecting a new recipe he wanted his executive chef to try. He pushed the birch embers around, blowing on them, trying to get them to the exact temperature he wanted. The fresh ingredients he’d collected earlier that evening in the forest – juniper berries, a wild variety of mushroom, some type of edible moss he didn’t know the name of – these he carefully sprinkled into the hot coats. Inhaling deeply, he tested their smoky aroma and was satisfied. It was time to add the scallops. He placed several of the beautifully symmetrical shells on the fire, allowing the herbed steam and aromatic heat of the wood to slowly cook the delicate flesh inside. It would only take a few minutes. He was just about to turn the first of the scallop shells with his tongs, when an indescribable force of emotion slammed down on him, nearly causing him to fall over and overturn the grill.

He swore in an ancient language and steadied himself, trying to salvage his scallop experiment. There wasn’t any point in continuing, the roiling sensations he was experiencing through the blood bond were too distracting. He doused the coals with water and, locking up the restaurant, headed up the hill into the forest to his cabin. Godric would just have to write up his notes for the chef later. It may have been summertime, but this far north in Sweden never warmed much, and he still liked a good fire. Settling into his favorite chair in front of a crackling blaze, he let his eyes close and he released his mind into the magic blood that had animated him for over two thousand years. His child Eric was there, fierce and strong as always, as was his child’s own wily, indomitable progeny. They were ecstatic and nearly indistinguishable from each other.

 _Ah_ ,  _they are strengthening our bloodline_ , he thought, pleased. No wonder he’d nearly been nearly knocked over. To be connected to such powerful creatures in a moment when they were both singing unfiltered feeling over their shared bond…even one as old as he couldn’t help but be moved. He sent his love to them, a vampire version of a cosmic hug. Their emotions ricocheted through him, and he savored their intensity. Above all, one sentiment stood out, and it swirled around a figure he had trouble identifying. Both his children were racked with anxiety, although a sense of need and desperation also crosscut this worry. It was difficult to distinguish which sentiments were Eric’s and which were Pam’s, since they were joined together. Images flickered by. They were not entirely distinct since he was far from his children, but he saw a female human in these visions, tangled in the mists of their thoughts. He wondered why Eric had decided to bloodshare at this moment, and how this statuesque woman with haunting hazel eyes had to do with it, if anything. What was going on over in the New World?

Nights came and went after that evening. Godric felt no more disturbances in the bond, and he went about his business. He trusted Eric would contact him if things were not well. Godric had shown Magnus his new recipe, and the young human chef had eagerly introduced it as a new dish. It was a bizarre impulse on Godric’s part, to start a restaurant. But after two millennia, he had pretty much done and seen it all. He was bored, and this was never a good thing. After spending some time in Louisiana with Eric and Pam to see their successful new business venture, he’d decided to come back to a tract of thickly forested land in Sweden he and Eric had bought long ago. He could never stand drinking from Americans for very long. Their blood was greasy and their hearts often weakened from their poor diets. He longed for the flavors of strong, healthy humans he’d enjoyed long ago. And this is how he’d hit upon the idea. The last thing on earth a vampire would do is fool with cooking. What motivation had they? Alas, he had struck on something he’d never tried in all his years. So he returned to the forests of Lundsen, found a daring young chef, and they built a small restaurant specializing in all organic, sustainably grown and locally harvested, New Scandinavian cuisine.

Godric harkened back to the wild edibles and flavors he’d remembered people once used, and although he couldn’t taste the food himself, his senses were so refined that he could gauge exactly what combinations would be intriguing for humans – and what their effect would be on the taste of their blood. Of course, he’d had to experiment at first with human volunteers to relearn how their palates responded to different flavors and textures. There had been several catastrophes on his part: several foul concoctions that left the poor taste testers green around the gills and one case of moderate food poisoning (he had to remember about food-borne pathogens…). But overall it was a challenge and he was enjoying himself immensely. Godric enjoyed his collaboration with the young man, although he had to remain careful not to reveal himself for what he was. On several reckless occasions he had to suck it up and pretend to eat something Magnus had prepared to show him. As a younger vampire, he would have probably vomited blood, but he was surprised to find in his old age that, in a pinch, he could choke something down and cough it up later so long as he didn’t have to breathe too much. Vampires only had to breathe to force air through their vocal chords in order to speak, and thankfully Magnus was a bit of a quiet wildling. Godric had been spared having to say more than a few words to praise his dish. Human food still tasted like ash – it simply didn’t connect to his thirst. But surprisingly, he’d learned that nibbling on wild herbs and mosses – things he was now fond of including in their dishes – actually could be pleasant, a bit like chewing gum. The aromas were enjoyable to his sense of smell, but not too overpowering like cooked food.

The restaurant was close enough to Uppsala to attract plenty of wealthy and adventurous customers. And Magnus was a truly gifted cook. The fact that he was handsome didn’t hurt either. He had aquiline features with large smoky amber eyes and a full mouth set under a flop of curly raven hair. Along with his quiet, softspoken nature, he had become an object of public speculation and intrigue. Godric had even given him a heavy black Mongolian lamb fur cloak that matched his hair to make him seem more mysterious and wild, and he wore it virtually everywhere. He had caught the attention of the culinary world and was enjoying his newfound fame. Some celebrity in America named Padma had been hounding them for months trying to get Magnus to be on television. But he was loyal to Godric and he preferred their quiet little cabin of a restaurant in the woods.

Godric couldn’t be more pleased with the arrangement. His new vampire menus for humans improved their health – and the taste of their blood – significantly, and he was increasingly realizing how important this work might be. He now envisioned a much larger scheme. Godric started funneling his wealth into a common fund which supported numerous research agendas focusing on creating sustainable, green resources. If humans weren’t going to save themselves, he damn sure would.

He had nearly forgotten about the incident he’d experienced in the bond when, a week later, he was asleep in his underground chamber and was awoken by a strong burst of lust. He sensed the sun was still high and it would be hours before he would properly wake. Drifting back into his rest, sexy images of a hazel eyed woman floated through his dreams. He knew vaguely in the back of his mind these were Eric’s thoughts, but he was deep asleep and let them wash over him like the gentle lapping of waves on the shore.

That night, he started silently down the leafy path to the restaurant. There was a light frost forming on the ground, and it crunched under his shoes. Magnus was already there, his mop of black hair bouncing with the motions of his flipping of a pan, the stirring of a pot. Godric gave him a friendly squeeze on the shoulder and sat at one of the picnic bench style tables. Magnus was more talkative that usual, and was telling him all about a new feature article he was going to be in. Some major magazine that barely registered a blip with him. He was happy for his young friend, but distracted by something that had been bothering him since he’d risen. Godric was utterly confused why Eric had been powerfully directing images of a bed partner at him. Eric had taken more lovers over the centuries than could be remembered, but he’d never woken Godric out of the deepest sleep of day death because of it. The vision had been wrapped up with two distinct emotions – excitement and the pull to go to him. This was the same human he’d seen tangled up in his childrens’ blood exchange. Something definitely was going on.

~OOO~

Lillian shifted the Audi into fifth gear and urged the engine faster down the country lane. She didn’t like to be out alone past sunset since “the incident” and it was nice to be home at the Treehouse when Eric came lumbering out from his day room at dusk. He usually had on pajama pants and his hair was all adorably mussed. It was just too cute. She also was slightly anxious, since he and Pam were leaving for Minnesota tonight. She’d run into town to get him a little gift, something to remember her by while he was gone. She hoped it didn’t come off as clingy, especially since they hadn’t defined the nature of their relationship. But then again, who could? Every aspect of it was an unusual.

When she pulled up, she could see Eric fussing around in the living room. Darn! She’d missed him waking up. Heading inside, he greeted her with a warm kiss.

“Good evening, lover. You look delicious tonight.” She’d gone a little out of her way to dress up. She eyed the bags he was packing warily.

“I already told you. It’s just a couple of days. Don’t worry about us.”

She pulled out a little white box and handed it to him.

“What is this?” he said, genuinely surprised.

“Just a little something for you, so you don’t get lost on your way.”

He opened the lid and recognition spread across his face. He pulled up the oxidized bronze chain and inspected the pendant. It was a vegvisir compass.

“Lila, this is so thoughtful! Thank you, lover.” He kissed her tenderly and pulled the chain over his head. I shan’t take it off while I’m away.” It made her happy.

“Now, I have something for you too.”

“What is it?”

“Come upstairs and I’ll show you…” he taunted, running his hand slowly down the front of his pants.

“Oh you dirty Viking!” He grinned and raced up the stairs, Lillian running after him, laughing.

They took their time pleasing each other’s bodies, each taking turns teasing and delighting the other. She wished they could have dragged it out all night (it seemed like that’s mostly all they’d done the past few days!), but she knew he would have to get going soon. He and Pam had a charter flight waiting to take them to Duluth.

“Lover, I still haven’t given you my gift.”

“Haven’t you?”

“Oh, that was only the prelude. Have you thought more about what I said the other day?”

“About what?”

“Taking my blood.”

Oh. She had thought about it, but was still nervous about the idea. It seemed kind of gross, and even if she could see past that, she didn’t know if they were ready for that.

“I have. Why do you ask?”

“I’d like you to take some now. I have your compass, but in case anything happens…I’d like to know which way to point it.”

Oh swoon! Damn this man, he was good! Eric was such a sweet talker, he knew how to get you to agree to anything. “I would be able to find you, and you could call to me through it.”

“How do you mean?”

“You would be able to push strong emotions at me and I’d feel them.”

“I’d just think really hard at you and you’ll know what I am thinking?”

“Generally speaking. I’ll also feel you like a background hum. I’ll know that you’re alright.”

“How long?”

“How long what?”

“Does it last? You said this would be temporary.”

“A few weeks maybe. A month at most. Can you put up with me for that long?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She chuckled. “That’s sounds do-able.”

“Oh I am  _very_ doable, Dr. Choate…” He rolled on top of her and kissed her hard. “Look at me,” he ordered. He liked eye contact. She watched as his fangs slid down, far down. All the way. It didn’t frighten her any longer, but was something fascinating. “Let’s make love again,” he whispered in a heated voice.

She blushed. That was the first time he’d referred to their very naughty romps as lovemaking. It made her heart skip, but she didn’t want to read too much into it. Better to let things evolve on their own.

He pushed into her and she gasped in pleasure. She licked and sucked on his fangs – it drove him wild – and he nuzzled and rubbed himself all over her. They worked each other into a frenzy, panting, gasping, nipping at each other, until Lillian cried out his name and he moaned, exploding into her. At the same instant, he sank his fangs deep into her neck, just to the side of her carotid artery. He came in her, and Eric wasn’t joking about the effects. Lillian arched her back and she literally had colors flash in her vision, her skin felt like every neuron was firing. She was just starting to come back down from whatever heaven Eric had just sent her to, when he called to her to open her eyes.

“Look at me, Lila.” Her eyelids fluttered open and took in his beautiful face, those deep grey blue eyes that she thought must be the color of the ocean near his childhood home. He bit his wrist and gave it to her. She licked the slow, oozing liquid timidly at first, and the cool sweet flavor on her tongue immediately made her orgasm again, even harder. Eric continued to move in her, and in between light draws at her own neck, cooed words in Old Norse at her ear.

She could hear him in her mind, and understood his meaning _. Drink. All of me. All of me_. She did as he told her to. Her mouth flooded with his delicious taste, his life force. And she lost herself to him, feeling a wash of intense emotion spread hotly over her. She lost track of all time, all sense of being. It was just the two of them, and they were one.

She was completely disoriented when she awoke. It was dark in the bedroom, and she could feel Eric’s firm chest pressed against her side. He was gently stroking tendrils of her hair and tracing the soft lines of her jaw with his knuckles.

“You are back.”

 _Lover_ , she pushed at him. He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

She felt a warmth rise in her chest and a strong sense of possessiveness took hold of her. It was weird. She felt possessiveness over  _herself_.

“What…was that you?” He looked at her quizzically.

 _Desire_.  _Mine_. She felt it again. It was the oddest feeling, it felt entirely like her own emotions except the slight warmth that rose around them. Eric was doing this to her.

“Eric, stop! It feels funny.”

“Lover,” he knit his eyebrows together. “What are feeling?”

“You! You’re making me want to pleasure myself and kill anyone who looks at me the wrong way!”

He shot up to his knees, eyeing her. “Lila, this is most unusual. Tell me exactly what you feel. Wait….Now. What do you feel?”

She felt the warmth, but the emotion was complicated. “I…it is hard to describe. I feel ecstatic joy, like my heart is swelling all the way up to the sky. Is it pride? I almost feel like crying, but with happiness. What is it?”

Eric knelt there in front of her on the bed, unmoving. It sometimes freaked her out when he went vamp silent. He didn’t move at all. Instead, he looked like a big gorgeous statue, except that he was clearly alive. Well, maybe not alive, but living.

“Well, fuck.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Now the heat was shimmering over her, it felt warm and splattery, too chaotic.

 _STOP_  she thought at him. The sensations stopped.

“Lillian, you are hearing my end of the bond. That doesn’t happen. That…shouldn’t happen.”

 _Fear._ That was Eric’s. Or hers. It was hard to tell.

“Are you mad? I’m sorry…”

 _Calm. Hugs_ , he sent her.

“I’m not mad. You would feel it. And don’t apologize. It just appears you are somehow receptive to the connection.”

“Did we overdo it or something? This isn’t permanent is it!?”  _Panic. Fear. Run._

“Lila, calm down. It’s ok. No, it couldn’t be permanent. It takes much more than that. This is unexpected, but it’s not a bad thing at all.” He smiled.

 _Happiness._  She felt that.

The front door slammed downstairs and someone came in, tossing their keys loudly on the counter. Pam’s voice cackled up to them, “If you’re done fucking, Master, we’ve got a flight to catch. Hi, Lillian. Are you indecent? If so, I’ll come right up….”

Lily didn’t know what suddenly overcame her, but she pulled on her creme silk robe and skipped down the stairs, catching Pam by surprise in a big bear hug.

“Pam, I’m so glad I got to see you before you left.”  _Friend. Happy. Safe._

Pam froze at her impromptu show of affection, awkwardly patting Lillian on the shoulder and unwrapping her from her body. “Master, your human is behaving oddly. She also reeks of you.” She stepped back to inspect Lillian, something was weird here. She thought she’d just  _felt…_

Eric tromped downstairs, shaking his head.

“Pamela, are you insinuating that I smell bad? Because if that’s the case, blood of my blood, you are equally foul. But as for your nasty mouth, I cannot be accused of being responsible for that.”

“Eric, what the fuck is going on? I can feel her…in the blood! She…she thought things at me!”

“What exactly?”

“She hugged me and she was thinking how happy she was to be near me!” screeched Pam accusingly.

Lillian frowned at Pam’s seeming rejection. She suddenly felt like bursting into tears. Eric put and arm around her and pulled her to him and Pam couldn’t help putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Shhh, it’s okay, lover.”

“Lillian, calm down,” Pam offered.

Eric tried to summarize as quickly as possible. “I made a temporary bond with her tonight and afterwards she said she could feel me. I asked her specifically to identify something I sent her. I’d just felt you coming up the road so I sent her that. She got it.

“That’s how you feel when Pam is coming to you?” Lillian whispered in awe. She looked at Pam.

“Why did you…hug…me?” asked Pam.

“I don’t know. I heard you come in and it just made me happy.”

Eric scowled in thought. “The blood knows the blood. One expects as much, to feel more at ease around bloodkin. I suppose it’s just more intense if she’s receptive to our end of the bond.”

“Extraordinary,” Pam couldn’t help blurting out. “Only Godric is capable of….” she stopped herself, realizing she was about to disclose something she shouldn’t.

Lillian was too curious. “Capable of what?” Pam looked at Eric.

“My maker is capable of sending impulses and compulsions into human minds with just a thought.”

“Maybe you have that gift too, but it’s just coming out now, with someone you’re closer to.”

“You can feel Pam, too,” he pointed out.

I’m beginning to understand the fuss you’ve been making, Eric.” She paused. “What does she taste like?”

“ _Pamela_ ,” Eric said in sharp warning.

“Oh chill out. I just meant, is she rare?”

He hesitated. Clearly he was about to admit something to Pam that he didn’t want to share. “The rarest. I’ve never tasted anything like it.” He gave a sidelong glance at Lillian.

 _Laughter. Just us._ She smirked, knowing he was thinking about his “surprise” the first time he drank from her.

 _Mine,_  she sent back.

“Well, I don’t really know what to say. Welcome to the family, I guess. You’re the first human member in our blood bond, no doubt.”

“Don’t worry, Lila. It will probably fade soon. In any case, it’s good to know we can keep in touch. I don’t know if you’ll be able to hear me from so far, but we’ll see.”

Eric dressed and he and Pam gathered their things and packed up the back of a compact SUV. Lillian hadn’t seen the vehicle before. How many freaking cars could a couple vampires squirrel away? Everything seemed to be set to go, when a car pulled into the drive. Eric snapped at her at pointed to the door. She scooted inside quickly. You listened when he wasn’t messing around. Eric just had that way of commanding. A few moments later, Eric and another man came in the door, Pam trailing behind.

“Lillian, this is your security man, Jeremy. Jeremy is an ex-Marine and he’s very good at his job. He’ll be around during the day and he’ll drive you to and from Fangtasy in the evenings, and anywhere else you want to go. When you’re at the club, Chow will always be there. You go to him if anyone bothers you. Understand?”

 _ANNOYANCE_. She glared at him, arms crossed.

“Don’t fight me on this. It’s only a few days.”

Lillian sighed, uncrossing her arms. “Hi, Jeremy. Nice to meet you. Would you care for some sweet tea?” He declined and stationed himself outside on the front stoop.

Eric pulled her into a big hug, kissing her on the temple. “Lover, it is for the best. Just be careful, tell Jeremy or Chow if anything seems out of the ordinary, ok? I’ll be thinking of you the entire time and hopefully this will all be resolved by the time I get back.”

She gave him a long, deep kiss, and nuzzled his nose with hers.

“Maybe we can take a trip afterwards, hmm? There’s a beautiful place I know of in Sweden. Have you ever been?”

“No, I’ve only been as far east as the Czech Republic.”

“Ah. Well, it would be nice.” He kissed her longingly. “Think of me while I’m gone, and try to play with the extra perk of our blood bond. I’d like to be deep in a conference with my underlings and get a filthy, depraved thought from you….” She pushed against Eric and shooed him out the door, stealing one last kiss and waving them goodbye.

Pam paused before getting in the car and looked at her.

 _Friend,_ Lillian thought.

She hurriedly got inside without another word.


	10. The Blood Knows Its Own

Lillian let her head fall against the headrest. The backseat of the sedan was comfortable and she was tired from the club. Having Jeremy around wasn’t entirely dreadful if it meant she could relax after a long night’s work. It had been so strange to be back at Fangtasy for the first time since learning Eric’s secret. She was also relieved to discover that she couldn’t feel anything from the only other vampire she knew, Chow. Her ability to sense vampire emotions was blessedly confined to Eric and his child. Chow had been his typical tight-lipped, brusque self, which was really a blessing in disguise, since it meant she didn’t have to interact much with him. Although he wasn’t unkind, and she knew he’d been instructed to keep an eye out for her, it was still weird having to pretend to him and everyone else that she didn’t know what he really was. Eric had said she should not, under any circumstance, let on or admit that she knew. Chow was under the impression that she’d been glamoured to forget, and the fact that she now bore Eric’s scent tangled in her own was only evidence that she had come entirely under Eric’s control. At least according to their cover story.

Pam and Eric had arrived safely in Duluth which, when Eric called to check in with her, he’d declared to be somewhat less of a shithole than Shreveport. She was disappointed to discover that she couldn’t feel him across the distance, but he wasn’t surprised by it. He said he could still feel her though, and that made her happy. Then he said he could feel her happiness, and that made her giggle. He didn’t have much time to chat, but he made the effort to call her each evening and she appreciated hearing his voice and knowing he was safe. Apparently there was a lot of schmoozing involved with Greysolon and he and Pam hadn’t even brought up the Longshadow issue yet. Politics was the same no matter what manner of species you were – no matter how hard Eric tried to convince her otherwise. It was a good thing she had her research to distract her the past few nights. If she dwelled too long on what was happening with them, she’d be sick with worry.

She was nearly asleep in the backseat when Jeremy’s cell rang. He answered in a foreign language the likes of which she had never heard. The sounds were so strange. She perked up.

“I thought you were American.”

“I am,” he said curtly.

“What language was that?”

“Daemoni.”

“Hmm, don’t think I’ve heard of it. Where’s it from?”

“Not here.” Jeremy really wasn’t a sharing type. She’d noticed most of the people Eric associated with had this trait. Lillian was similar, in that she mostly listening carefully to people.

She was relieved when they turned up the drive to the Treehouse. By now, Lillian had turned into a complete night owl, but it didn’t mean she had limitless energy. Listening endlessly to people talk about themselves in the loud club took it out of her. Her mother always told her there was something about her that just made people want to tell her things. They would blab on and on and on. Ever she was a child, complete strangers would happily strike up conversations with her. It could be exhausting. Even Eric seemed susceptible, since he told her things he’d never share with a measly human.

Walking in the front door she tossed her bag down, kicked off her shoes, and went into the kitchen to make a cup of herb tea before bed. Loving the look of the house at night, she had gotten into the habit of using lights sparingly. In the kitchen, she turned on the single halogen hanging over the island and set the kettle on the stove. She leaned against the counter to wait, and that’s when she saw it: the dark silhouette of a man standing in front of the curtain glass. Cold terror struck her and just as she was about to scream for Jeremy, the words stuck in her throat and warmth spread inside her chest.

_Calm. Quiet. Stay._

It was a vampire. And it was thinking at her.

“Whothefuckareyou!” she managed to say.

_Quiet. Happiness. Home…_

The foreign emotions tore at her, she felt them as her own, but she also felt her terror and desire to escape. The shadow shifted and moved towards her, but her body was petrified, glued to the spot. He was compelling her to stay. Oh god she was going to die and she was going to stand there of her own accord feeling happy about it!

A young man stepped into the light. He had sandy blond hair and a sensually curved mouth. His grey blue eyes stared at her, taking her in.

“Hello, child,” he said softly, a slight lilt in his accent.

“ _Godric!_ ” Lillian whispered in shock.

He tilted his head to the side and smiled gently.  _So she knew of him. Strange things are afoot indeed_  he thought.

Lillian’s knees nearly buckled – she didn’t know whether to bow down to the ancient creature or throw her arms around his neck. Godric reached past her to the stove, pulling the teapot off the heat. She hadn’t even registered that the whistle was squealing away. She moved out of his way, giving him space. Her body was numb with shock. He rummaged about in various cabinets, pulling out a mug and then discovering where she’d stashed her tea. Godric was  _making her tea_.

“You should answer your phone. It is Eric.” Godric had felt Eric’s shock when Lillian’s sudden fear ripped through their bond. Lillian’s scent was intertwined with Eric’s. He’d known immediately that they had bonded, and recently too, but how far Eric had taken the bond he did not yet know. Lillian shook her head trying to clear it. She hadn’t even heard the phone ringing, she was still standing there staring at Godric stupidly. Stumbling over to the chair she’d tossed her bag in, she dug it out, turning back to confirm that Godric was actually standing in her house. His house. Shit. She was in his house. She saw him raise the mug to his nose and sniff at the steam rising from it, then he looked at her.

_Lie._

Her eyebrows shot up. She didn’t lie to Eric, because she wanted Eric to be honest with her. She stood there in indecision.

 _LIE._ This time his compulsion was too strong to fight, it overpowered her. Quickly, she answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“What the fuck is happening!” Eric roared on the other end of the line.

 _Believe._ Godric pushed the thought at her slowly. He was trying to make her feel calm and believe whatever bullshit she was about to tell Eric.

“Oh, god. The bond! Oh honey, I’m so sorry. You…you must have felt that. It scared you. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I just…I saw a bug and it freaked me out.”

“You saw a  _bug_!? Jesus christ, Lillian, I thought you were about to be murdered! Who gets that scared by a fucking bug!?”

Godric smiled and went back to dunking little bag into her tea.

“I’m really sorry. I hate spiders! I hope I didn’t interrupt.”

“Yes, you interrupted! I nearly kicked a door down in Greysolon’s fucking parlor to get to my phone. You are sure everything’s fine?” He was suspicious. Lowering his voice to a near inaudible whisper, he said “Tell me in the bond if someone’s there and you can’t answer.”

 _Happy. Happy. Safe._ Godric was still controlling her.

Eric sighed on the other end of the line. “Jesus, Lillian. Don’t do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry okay! I can’t help having human emotions. You’re the one who wanted to bond in the first damn place! Deal!”

Eric laughed. “Alright, alright. Clearly everything is back to normal. Go get Jeremy to take care of your damnable insect.

“Okay. I’m really sorry  _min älskare_.” The term of endearment came out a little better this time. She’d been practicing how to pronounce it. Hearing it, Godric looked at her in curiosity. Then he held up a jar of sugar cubes. Lillian shook her head.

 _No_  she thought at him. Feeling it, his eyes grew wide and he dropped the jar in surprise, sending it in shatters it all over the floor.

“What was that!?” Eric bellowed.

_Lie…Believe…_

“Oh calm down, I just broke the sugar jar. I can’t make tea with one hand. Listen, I’m gonna get going. Go make your apologies to Greysolon. I hope you weren’t too rude.”

“No irreparable harm was done. Be careful cleaning that glass, lover. The only time you’re allowed to spill that delicious blood of yours is when it’s going into my mouth.”

 _Lust. Desire. Mine_ she pushed at Eric.

“Mmm. I can’t wait to get home,” he purred. “Hopefully it’ll just be a few more days.”

“I can’t wait for you to come home either. You said it would only be a couple days a couple days ago! Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Of course, lover. Dream of me today.”

“Always.”

“Good. Until tomorrow then.  _Hej då_  [Bye].” The line clicked.

Godric came into the living room and handed her the tea. “Sorry about the jar. That was the first time I’ve broken something  _on accident_  in a very long time. I’m not often taken by surprise.” He took her by the hand and led her to sit down with him on the couch. She was surprised he would touch her so freely. Vampires avoided touching humans at all costs. On contact with his soft hand, warmth and happiness spread through her.

 _Home. Mine_ , slipped out of her. What had Eric said? The blood knew its must be the blood now making her feel so good to be near him, and even more bizarrely, she felt possessive of him. Someone she’d just met!

“Now that is rather remarkable, child. Tell me how you are able to speak to me.” He let his porcelain colored arm drape casually over the back of the couch, next to where she was facing him. His angular features were stunning. His grey blue eyes reminded her of Eric’s, although they weren’t quite as piercing as his. When Eric’s pupils contracted, he looked positively otherworldly.

“Godric. I’m sorry…” she didn’t want to talk about her blood bond. She wanted to know why he was here. “I’m Lillian.”  _And I’m in your house_  she thought. She felt embarrassed. She didn’t know whether Eric had told him she was staying here for the time being. Godric must have been as shocked to have her waltz into his home as she was to find him staring out the living room window.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve been…seeing a lot of you lately.”

Now it was her turn to be surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Eric.” That was all he offered.

“I’m really sorry – you probably didn’t expect to have a human come tromping into your house. Have you traveled very far? Let me heat up some blood for you.” How she’d gotten to the point that it was entirely natural to offer a visitor some of the human blood stored in the fridge out in the garage was beyond her. She went to stand but the hand he’d rested on the back of the couch moved lightly to her shoulder. He tipped his head to the side, taking her in with an absorbed inquisitiveness, and he gently fingered a tendril of hair cascading off her shoulder.

“I could smell you all over the house. You didn’t surprise me.”

“I’m so sorry to have invaded your space. Eric was letting me stay here, did he tell you? I’ll get a room at the hotel, let me give them a call.”

He tsked her, shaking his head.

“You will stay here. It would please me greatly. Unless you mind my being here?”

“No, of course not!” she put a hand on his knee. The closer to him she was, the more relaxed and joyous she felt. It actually made her heart leap to hear him say that something – anything – she could do would make him happy. It was like every fiber in her body wanted to please him. She was starting to understand how even somebody as wonderfully bitchy as Pam could, at the same time, live halfway up Eric’s perfect ass. This magic blood of theirs did weird things.

“Why did you want me to lie to Eric? Surely he already feels you here?”

“I’m in stealth mode, I’m afraid. I wanted to find out why my children were in such…how do you say it? A kerfuffle?”

Lillian launched into the story of her now very crazy life, sipping her tea between each episode. She told him all about how she’d come here, Longshadow’s insane attempt to capture Eric, her role in the ordeal, the time at the safe house. He listened intently, only interrupting her a few times to ask questions.

“You were very brave, my child,” he said when at last she’d finished her tale.

“You aren’t mad?”

“Mad? Why would I be?”

“Because…you know. Eric said this wasn’t natural, being around an unglamoured human. Telling me things.”

The entire time she’d been talking, Godric had kept several fingers brushed against her shoulder. Lillian found she couldn’t help but keep touching his knee or arm when she got to the really juicy parts of the story. Well,  _most_ of the juicy parts. She left out the part where she and Eric had fucked in practically every room and on every surface in the house. She guessed he already knew as much, but owning up to it would have been pretty darn embarrassing.

“Lily, it is not how we usually do things. But then you aren’t usual, are you?” She blushed at hearing him give her a nickname. Only her mother called her Lily. She insisted people call her Lillian at work. It sounded more serious, tougher. She got pushed around enough as it was without sounding like a delicate flower.

“I dunno. I’m just a girl.”

“Ha!” he snorted in delight. “Right. And I’m just a boy.” He was still focused on the matter of her being able to feel them through her blood bond. She studied his face. He had been turned at a young age, he must have been not much older than 17 or 18. His build was compact, but extremely firm. She remembered what Eric had said about him being a sort of king. He must have come into his role at a young age indeed. But then again, people didn’t live very long at all in his time, did they.

He interrupted her musings when he asked her suddenly, “What are you, Lily?”

“What do you mean? I’m an anthropologist.”

“Your scent…I’m trying to place it, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“Eric said…” She stopped herself, unsure if she should share what he’d told Pam. She was happy being near Godric. She intuitively felt he was trustworthy as Eric’s maker, but she certainly didn’t want to encourage him to bite her either.

“What did Eric say?” he purred. Vampires, she was learning, could make just about anything sound sexy when they spoke like that.

 _Tell_ , Godric pushed.

“He said that I tasted funny.”

“Hmm. Well I will have to ask him about it when he gets back.”

 _Relief_. Oops! She’d just directed that back at him.

“Lillian, I wouldn’t dare…” he stood and offered his hands to pull her up. She took them. It sent happy shivers down her spine. Standing there eye to eye – he was the same height as her – she felt an urge to hug him. Suddenly, she curled against his chest, laying her hands and cheek against him. She was drawn to him was like a magnet, it was beyond her volition. He wrapped his arms around her, and she simply couldn’t explain how vibrantly content this made her feel. It was if she’d always known him.

“Will you stay long?” she asked, closing her eyes and inhaling his crisp smell through his longsleeve shirt. Like Eric, his scent made her think of the air right before it snows. It was woodsy, smokey, and altogether intoxicating.

“As long as I’m needed.”

She pulled back to look at him, holding him by the arms. “I think you’re very much needed, Godric. Eric won’t admit it. He’s a stubborn ass, you know….”

Godric chuckled lightheartedly. Oh, how well he knew. That was his beloved child, through and through.

“I just know something bad is brewing. And it’s here. Close. I’m so scared for them, Godric,” she admitted.

His eyes narrowed. He was getting closer to figuring her out. “What is it, Lillian? What do you sense?”

“I don’t know, I just  _know_. I feel like there’s a darkness hanging over us, and it tastes stale, like rotten mud.”

“And does this happen to you often? Where you just ‘know’ things?” he was getting closer to pinpointing her delicious scent. Even he, an elder, was having trouble keeping his fangs from running out.

“I dunno,” she said noncommittally. “Sometimes.”

He took her by the hand and started leading her upstairs. “Give me an example.”

“Like, earlier tonight. After the initial shock, I knew it was you.”

“And you never saw a picture of me?” She thought of Eric in her favorite photograph of him.

 _Love,_ she thought suddenly. And the thought went singing through the blood.

“Answer me, you’re distracted,” he said, ignoring the fact that Lillian had just sent her love over the bond to Eric. Love. The realization hit her hard.

“Give me another example,” he asked. “You’re Eric’s blood bonded, your intuition would have recognized me as kin even if you didn’t know me. And you didn’t seem surprised that I could speak to you through the bond, perhaps you already knew of my gift?”

 _I’m falling in love. With Eric. With a vampire…_ she tried to process this. Was it just his blood doing this to her? Or were these her own feelings?

He led her down the hall and into the master bedroom. Godric held up the sheets and she automatically crawled underneath. He sat down on the edge of the bed. It was freakishly domestic and completely unsettling, considering how at ease Lillian was with the entire scene. An ancient vampire just tucked her into bed. And she was going right along with it on autopilot, like this was something she did every day.

“Lillian.”

She was still wandering in her own thoughts.

“Lily.” She snapped back into the present moment.

“Sorry.”

Godric sighed unnecessarily. “Eric felt that. He loves you too. But he doesn’t fully know it yet.” He was feeling Eric rippling through their bond and interpreting it for her, since she couldn’t feel him herself.

“He does?”

“Yes. He is, as you say, a stubborn ass. Give him time.”

“You’re probably right.” She yawned.

“Think more about what I asked you. I shall see you in the evening.”

He rose to leave when the nearly asleep Lily said, “I’m really glad you’re here, Godric.”

“I’m glad you are here, too.” He shut the door silently. He needed to reflect more on the evening’s events.

~OOO~

The following evening, Godric touched the panel next to the door in the light-tight room and the machine, identifying his fingerprints, unlocked the door. He pushed it. A bookcase in the library swung open, and Godric emerged from it. It was still light out, but his day death had been fraught with busy dreams and he’d woken earlier than usual. He liked his tiny cabin in Lundsen very much – it was all he really needed – but he truly loved Trädkojan. He remembered when Eric brought him here the first time. He was so touched by what his child had done for him – how beautiful a thing the house was and how lovingly Eric had crafted it, leaving no detail unconsidered. A blood tear had escaped from his eye that day. There were so many centuries of love and brotherhood between them, endless nights of adventures and travel. Eric had sensed his boredom and, knowing its dangers, built him this place to entice him to stay for a time. That first night, they’d sat in front of the fireplace in the living room talking and laughing. Then as dawn approached, Eric had revealed to him the true secret of the home.

As it turned out, Eric was funding the work of an Italian inventor who had formerly worked for a sunglasses company.  _Persol_ , it was named, recalling their conversation. The man had found a way to make sheets of bulletproof glass that filtered out the UV rays that caused vampires to burn. That morning was one he would never, ever forget. He had sat cross-legged on the bedroom floor in front of one of the huge windows that made up half of the house’s walls. Eric sat behind him, barefoot and clad only in jeans, his head on Godric’s shoulder and an arm wrapped protectively around his maker. And together they watched the sun rise for the first time in millennia. His child had given him the sun.

So overwhelmed was he that he’d blood bonded fiercely that day with his child, refusing to let go of him even as they slept in the daylight. The very source of his life was all he could give Eric, and even then it didn’t seem enough. They’d stayed that way nearly twenty-four hours. When Godric finally relented and released Eric, he realized there probably wasn’t another vampire in existence who had ever bonded for so long or as frequently as Eric had with his master. Not only was it rare for a maker and child to stick together for as long as they had, it was against every instinct to bite one’s maker. It took a powerful ability to manipulate the blood bond to entice a child to exchange blood. Since then, he’d often wondered just how strong Eric really was. He’d inherited many of Godric’s gifts – a few had transferred precisely on that occasion.

Godric smiled, thinking of his child and watching the sun slip down below the horizon. He silently passed upstairs. He could hear Lillian’s even, long breaths, and knew she was still asleep. Slipping into the bedroom, he stood over her and watched her. She was dreaming and her eyes fluttered beneath her delicately fringed eyelids. He caressed her face with the lightest of touches, then went into the master bathroom, shutting the door.

Lillian woke slowly. She hadn’t lowered the room’s electronic shades last night, and then she remembered, of course, that she hadn’t been alone. The sky was a purple pink cotton candy hue. She had slept the entire day and not even woken up while the sun was blasting through the windows!

Hopping out of bed, she peeled off the clothes she’d ended up sleeping in and slipped on her favorite silk robe. She headed for the toilet, and when she opened the door, she jolted in surprise. Godric was submerged in the big spa tub in the center of the room. He had on headphones and looked thoroughly relaxed. Tiptoeing, she went into the W.C. and did her business, glad that Eric had designed the toilet in a separate chamber, European style. When she came out to wash her hands, Godric opened his eyes and smiled at her.

“ _God kväll_ , dear.”

She lathered her hands and looked at him in the reflection of the mirror. “What does that mean?”

“Good evening.”

“Ah.  _Hej_  to you too. I didn’t realize you were Swedish.”

“I’m not, but I thought I’d help you along with your studies.” She blushed, realizing he was teasing her about her and Eric’s pet name for each other. She ran her hand through the handtowel.

“What is that amazing smell?” A lush, heavy perfume wafted through the air.

“You like? It’s my own bath oil concoction. Try it.” He pointed to a green bottle on the edge of the tub. She picked it up and sat on the edge of the tub, her back turned to Godric. She  _really_  was trying not to check out her lover’s maker. That was just weird. Even weirder was how the blood bond made her utterly comfortable with the fact that a strange undead man was floating in her bathtub.

“Mmmm. Sandalwood. A hint of patchouli, not too much.” She inhaled again. “Musk?”

“Very good.”

“Something else too. Don’t tell me. She poured a bit on her hands and rubbed them together, breathing in as she did.

“Oh god. Vetiver. That’s why I like it so much. I always like scents with vetiver, it’s so subtle, you know?” He nodded, detaching the headphones he’d been wearing from the Ipod. Godric sat up, sloshing the water around, and stretched over to the cabinet next to the bath. He plugged in the mp3 player into a little stand she handed noticed before. Music suddenly flooded through the bathroom.

“Oh wow, that’s really cool! I didn’t know there was a sound sytem in here. I haven’t had much time to explore. I still don’t even know where Eric disappears to during the day.” She paused, registering the music. “Wait, you’re listening to new age?” It was something vaguely Celtic.

“Yes. It isn’t really similar to what we played when I was human, but it I like it.”

“You’re a Celt,” she whispered breathlessly. She had tried not to overtly eye the tattoos around his neck and arms, but now they made a little more sense.

“Yes,” he replied.

Lillian mindlessly started rubbing the oil into her legs and feet, taking this all in. She was trying to do the math in her head. Two thousand years…A light bulb went off. She’d once dated an intensely boring archaeologist who worked on early Iron Age Europe and nearly never shut up about it. She never thought such a tedious string of dates would ever come in handy.

“Hallstatt culture? You lived during Hallstatt C?!” Lily couldn’t help jumping up and looking at him.

“Lily darling, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“The early Iron Age. Were you from Britain or mainland Europe?

“Ah. I am originally from what we now call Britain. It was a time of great change, migration, new ideas. I believe it is what you call the transition from the Bronze Age to the Iron Age.”

“Jesus christ!” Lillian blurted.

“Hardly. I’m actually twice as old as him. Never met him. Heard he caused quite a sensation, though.” He smiled dryly.

 _Happy._ She laughed heartily, feeling him send her his joy. Then she realized she was standing in front of a gorgeous man floating stark naked in the tub, and she turned around in embarrassment. Her hands were slick from the luxurious oil.

“Ambergris.”

“What?”

“That’s the smell you didn’t pick up on in the bath oil. You probably haven’t ever smelled it. It’s only used now in very expensive custom perfumes. I prefer it over alcohol, which is too sharp and astringent smelling.”

“Ambergris…” she’d heard of it before. It was extremely valuable, traded across vast stretches in the Old World…Then she remembered where it came from. “Oh gross! This has whale shit in it!?”

“It is  _not_  whale shit…But it does come from their intestinal tract.”

“Oh yuck!” She looked around for something to wipe her hands on. She’d been rubbing amazing smelling whale poo all over herself.

“Don’t waste it, Lily. It cost a fortune to make!”

She got up and walked around the tub haughtily. She slapped her hands on Godric’s shoulders, smearing as much of the oil off as she could. He chuckled.

“Come on, gently now! I’m an old man.”

“The hell you are.” He laughed harder, sloshing the water over the side of the tub. Touching him now amplified her own feeling of happiness.

 _Closer. Touch,_ he urged her.

Lillian didn’t even realize the impulse wasn’t hers when she kneeled down. The little octagonal floor tiles were cold and pinched at the skin on her knees, but the silky skin under her fingers more than distracted her. She let her hands slide slowly over his shoulders, massaging the thick muscles. Eric was muscular too, but he was so darn tall that his bulk seemed lanky, leonine in comparison. Godric moaned in pleasure. The sound pulled her closer still. Her hands wandered over his chest, across the beautiful blue collar tattooed around his neck. The water must have been incredibly hot when he’d gotten in, because his body was as warm, maybe warmer, than a human’s.

 _Beautiful_ , she thought at him.

She was completely absorbed and had her face nuzzled into his neck where she was slowly breathing in his scent.

_Delicious. Want. Need._

Her hand wandered over his pecs, lightly brushing his nipples. Godric arched his back and snarled, his fangs slamming out. He grabbed her arms to stop her movement, turning to look her in the eye.

 _Careful_ , he pushed at her slowly, deliberately. She saw the wild, dark look in his eyes and she jerked her arms out of the tub and backed away. What the hell was she doing!? What the hell  _was_  that?! She grabbed onto the towel rack to steady herself, pushing her face into the fluffy cotton.

 _Regret._ The thought broadcast loudly out of her. She heard the tub slosh and the sound of wet feet slapped on the tile. In her peripheral vision Godric’s pale arm reached past her and pulled a towel off the rack she was clinging to.

 _Whatever you do, under no circumstances do you turn around_ , Lillian ordered herself. Her lover’s maker was naked as a jay bird standing right behind her.

Godric wrapped the towel around his waist and set a hand lightly on her back.

“Lillian, don’t be upset.” She turned around.

“Don’t be upset? I’m  _Eric’s_  girlfriend!” Was she? She wasn’t sure what she was. “Or his lover…or…whatever. I’m bonded with Eric!”

“And it is because you’re bonded with him that you feel attracted to me.” Boy, he didn’t mince words.

“I don’t. I’m not.” The mouth-watering scent drifting off of her revealed her words to be a total fabrication, but Godric wasn’t going to argue with her. “I…I just feel drawn to you, like a magnet. It’s like Eric’s blood wants to crawl back in you. You’re its home.” She pulled at the edges of her robe, cinching it tighter.

“Lillian, Eric and I…well…” She looked at him searchingly. Her pleading eyes tugged at him, something about them made him want to bear his soul to her. They were such an amazing pool of color and light: sea green, aqua blue, and an amber brown dominated in swirls. But there was also a golden yellow flecked around her black pupils, making them look like sunflowers, and the whole of each iris was ringed in the deep, dark grey. He took her hand and led her into the bedroom. He hopped on the bed, patting for her to sit next to him.

 _Tell,_ she urged him.

“Eric and I are unusually close for a maker and child. We are bonded so tightly that…I suspect he is almost as strong as me. He shares many of my powers, far more than anyone similar to his age, and more still than many much older. We are a unique bloodline.”

“He’s sorta hinted as much.”

“Eric and Pam are closely bound as well, but she is still young. Did you not feel a very strong urge to be near her too?”

“Yeah, but…” He raised an eyebrow. “But it wasn’t the same.”

“How so? What exactly are you feeling?”

“It’s hard to say.” She thought about it. She put a hand on his arm and closed her eyes, letting the pull strengthen, hoping it would help her put it into words. Then the emotions tumbled out.

_Fuck. Bite. Feed you. Please you. Anything. Anything. MINE._

His eyes widened at this. She put her other hand on his shoulder, her arm rigid. It wasn’t clear if she was holding herself back or pushing him away. Slowly she opened her eyes, her cheeks flushed pink in mortification over her unruly emotions.

“I see.” It was all he needed to say. Eric’s blood bond had tilted the axis of Lillian’s internal world to spin around his maker. Lillian was feeling vampire urges, and she was drawn to Godric  _as though_  he had turned her himself.

~OOO~

Eric leaned on the balcony railing, looking out over the twinkling lights of the city. It was windy this evening and the lake that spread out beyond the skyline was choppy. He rose, swigging down the rest of his meal in the glass he was holding, and sauntered back inside. Daniel Greysolon’s penthouse was elegantly appointed, certainly fitting of the Lord of the Land. It was also in the tallest building in the city, an imposing structure. Eric supposed that if he lived in a city named after him, as Duluth was after Greysolon, known in his human years as the Sieur du Lhut, he might want to be able to stand over it and hold court. Then again, Eric ran his shop out of the back of a club in a strip mall. He could give a fuck what people thought. If he had anything to prove, he’d prove it with the business end of his sword, Grendl. And he was the High Lord of Louisiana, half of Mississippi, and a small swath of land around Houston. But not Arkansas. Fuck that shit. Greysolon – who at the moment was stretched out in an armchair in a dark pinstripe suit, putting on airs of sophistication – what did he have? A frozen land of muddy lakes crawling with leaches; a land inhabited mainly by the miscreant ancestors of men and women who couldn’t hack his Nordic homelands. And these humans had the gall – the gall! – to call themselves Vikings. At one point he’d actually considered buying the humans’ little football team they loved so much, just so he could change the name and dismantle them bit by bit. He was really letting himself get fired up when Pam eyed him in a warning. She had been sitting next to Greysolon all evening, fawning at his side, hanging on his every word. She was a good actress.

 _CHILL!_ She practically punched him in the stomach with the thought. He sighed and sat down next to her, crossing his long legs and stretching his arms along the back of the couch. It drew his pale grey dress jacket open to good effect, showing off the immaculate tailoring of both it and the vest he wore underneath. He was using every inch of his body to show dominance, taking up as much space and possible.

 _Peacock. Stop!_ Pam shot at him. She was sending him the random image of a peacock, swooping its head and fanning its tail. Point taken. He leaned forward on his knees. Several other of their kind were in attendance, milling about the suites various rooms, and the mood of their little soiree was, on the whole, jovial. Excepting Eric, who was barely keeping his antsy mood under control. Pam knew he was sick of kowtowing and carrying on. It had been days now and it was time to get down to brass tacks. Eric made his move and casually mentioned Longshadow’s theft to him. Greysolon had clapped his hands in horror.

“No! You are sure? This must be some terrible mistake. Virginia,” he called to an underling, “be a dear and get the North Man here my accountant’s number. You just call him up and he’ll square away whatever Longshadow owes you.”

Pam had prayed in that moment that Eric wouldn’t snap and kill him on the spot for his insolent attitude. The last thing they needed was another territory to run. She had come here for a bit of quiet after a long stint in New York, but she was good and over Minnesota. By some miracle, Eric held it together. And Greysolon had just shown them the weak link in his little empire. Victoria was his right hand. It hadn’t been clear until now, since he kept so many groveling underlings around.

“Now you see, my friend, it’s not really about the money.” They were strolling around the parlor together, but as he said this, Eric had stopped, taken him by the shoulders, and looked him dead in the eyes. “Surely you realize I am vastly,  _vastly_ wealthy.” Greysolon’s eye twitched ever so slightly. Pam smiled inwardly. He was trying to goad him into revealing he had a money problem. And it had worked. Eric relaxed and clapped him on the back, continuing their perambulation, stopping once to look in one of the large mirrors in the room and check his hair. Oh, Eric knew how to play people. Greysolon was clearly as vain as they came and Eric was rubbing every virtue he possessed in his face. The trick was not to overdo it, and that’s where Pam made herself useful. Usually Eric had no problem being supremely subtle, but Greysolon simply annoyed the shit out of him and Pam could feel he was seething just below the surface. He hated having to waste precious moments of his eternity on a simpering specimen like the one before him. On top of it, he was pissy at having to be gone from Lillian for longer than expected, nevermind how it irked him to let work pile up in his own territory. Eric ran a very tight ship.

Pam got up and cut in, taking Greysolon’s arm. “You men and your business.  _Laisse mon beau Daniel tranquil, Eric_.” [Leave my handsome Daniel alone, Eric.]

She gave him a sparkling smile. “ _Alors,_   _racontez-moi un autre de vos petits histoires, cheri_.” [Now then, tell me another of your tales, dear]. Pam was buttering him up using his mother tongue. He took the bait.

While Greysolon launched into yet another long-winded story about his human days as a  _coureur de bois_ , a fur trapper in the north, Eric slipped out of the room. He walked through a hallway and bingo, found what he was looking for.

“Oh, Victoria!” He stood too closely to her. “I am  _so_ glad to have found you.”

“Yes Lord Northman? What can I help you with?”

He leaned into her ear and whispered huskily, “I seem to be incredibly aroused by the thought of your ruby red lips wrapped around my glorious member. Would you care to help me?” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand and at vamp speed, she whisked them both down the hall to an empty bedroom.

Eric shut the door silently and turned, only his face wasn’t of lust, it was absolutely fearsome. He stalked towards her, keeping direct eye contact. His pupils were tiny pinpoints. “Now, listen very carefully Victoria. You are going to tell me everything you’ve seen or heard that seems out of place regarding this territory’s finances and regarding Longshadow being in my territory. Sing, little bird.” She was fully under his influence. It was a rare and extraordinarily useful gift. Eric could glamour other vampires. It wasn’t easy, it couldn’t override information blocked with a maker’s command (which is why he’d gotten so little out of Longshadow), and it was less certain to fully work the older the creature was. But the young thing before him was a snap. Pam had talked him out of trying it on Greysolon in the off chance it didn’t thoroughly take. She really,  _really_ didn’t want Eric to be forced to kill him and end up with this damnable territory.

Victoria started spilling everything she knew. As she talked, Eric’s eyes grew wide. Then wider. Then his hand was over his mouth.

When she was finished, Eric was pale as a ghost. “You will forget we every spoke in this room. You came here, gave me a mediocre blowjob, and I left. My penis was too much for you to handle.” He couldn’t help adding that last bit in the hopes she’d let it slip to Greysolon.

He headed quickly out to the salon to retrieve his child.

“…and the Ojibwe were so kind to me, they shared their campfire and we broke bread together, as brothers should. My hunts were very successful that season…”

“Greysolon, I have been so very honored to be hosted by you and yours. Your reputation for generosity could never do justice to how welcomed we have been.” Eric spoke a little too quickly, but the Lord of Minnesota thankfully didn’t catch on to the fact that he was being entirely disingenuous. “I am afraid I must make my humblest of apologies and beg to take your leave. It seems my underling has discovered a newborn feeding on one of my human clients. The fool nearly drained him dry.” Eric eyed Greysolon. He didn’t flinch.

“Oh newborns  _are_ so very troublesome. Are they not? Good luck Lord Eric of the North. I do hope you will come visit us again soon.”

“Indeed. I shall take that under advisement. Lord Greysolon.” He gave a nod of his head, but Pam was required to give the Lord a deep curtsy. Greysolon took her hand and kissed it tenderly, and Pam pretended to blush, waving him off shyly as though he were Rhett Butler.

Once they were downstairs and free of the possibility of prying ears, Pam let loose.

“Gods Eric! Never in my undead life have I heard a vampire clackity clack on and on about his bloody human days! You’re fucking  _dead_ , get over it!” She was heading down the street towards their “rental” car. It was some stupidly fast thing that Eric had glamoured a poor dealership manager into letting them walk off with for the time being. They’d parked a half acre away; Eric had refused to let the building valets park it, insisting they would bug it or wreck it. Probably both.

She stopped, realizing he wasn’t with her. “Eric?…” He had stopped and was standing on the sidewalk, looking completely white and forlorn.

“Eric…” her voice lowered. She really, really didn’t like the look on his face.

“Pamela, we’re fucked.”

“How fucked? Fuck a zombie fucked?”

“Worse.”

Before she could react, he grabbed her around the waist and rocketed into the sky. He was taking her at speeds he’d never dared to before. She was shocked he could go this fast. He went high, extremely high, in the hopes of avoiding planes or military attention. They must be traveling just under the sound barrier. If he broke it –if he could break it, that is – it would set off every car alarm along their path, not to mention shattering more than a few windows. She clung to him.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

“NOW?!” Normally they took charter flights. She didn’t like Eric carrying her very long distances.

“Now.” He pushed himself even harder.

~OOO~

Lillian and Godric were spread out in front of the fireplace on the large wool flokati rug. He’d built a big blaze and it was all the light they needed for what they were doing. He held his out in front of her and she eyed them, waiting.

“Go fish.”

They’d been playing games of chance all evening. Anything based on strategy was out of the question – Godric would crush her without batting an eye. She pulled a card from the deck and added it to her pile. She didn’t flinch when she saw it was what she was looking for. Lillian might be the anthropologist, but Godric had 2,000 years to study people.

“Do you have a 3 of diamonds?” he asked.

“Go fish.”

He pushed his cards together and neatly set them down. “Lillian? Let’s play something else. This is a profoundly boring game.”

“I know, I agree. But I hate losing. If we try Risk you’re going to stomp me.”

“I will, it is true.” He smiled slyly. “How about something else?” He’d been working her up to this all evening, ever since they’d decided to just ignore the obvious side effects of her blood bond with Eric and do something that kept them out of trouble. He took the deck and shuffled it. “Okay, this is how it works. You draw a card and place it on your forehead. You can’t look at it. Then you have to guess what it is.”

“What? Pfft. That’s a really dumb game. It’s totally random. Do you reshuffle after each draw?”

“We can.”

“Then it’s dumb. You have 1 in 52 odds of getting it right. Do you really want to sit around with cards stuck to your head all night guessing and getting it wrong?”

“I’m not going to sit around guessing.  _You are_. And anyways, that’s the interesting part about stochastic process.”

“You mean how probabilities work?” Jeez, the last stats class she’d taken was forever ago and the man before her probably learned mathematics from some Arab magi on freaking cuneiform clay tablets. Where was he going with this?

“Yes. In infinite time, your chances are equally 1 in 52. But we’ll play for just an hour, yes? Sometimes you get a string of wins, sometimes not. Shall we just try and see?”

“Ugh. Fine.” She pulled the top card off and slapped it to her head. “You know, this would be more fun if it was a drinking game.”

“Shhh. Focus on the card.”

“Five of spades.”

“Nope.” She flipped the card back at him huffily but he caught it in a movement too fast for her eyes. He slid it back in the deck. “Draw again.”

She put another one up to her head.  _Focus_ , he pushed at her. She tried closing her eyes.

He tapped lightly on the middle of the card stuck on her forehead and he held his finger against it, hoping to get her to put her thoughts on the spot.

“Start with the color.”

“Red,” she said instinctively.

“Very good.” She smiled and opened her eyes. “Shh. Close your eyes. Focus.”

In her mind she worked through the numbers, she tried to see what it was. She narrowed it down to a couple.

“I want to say it’s an 8 or 9.”

“Which is it, Lily?”

“Eight of hearts.”

He pulled the card off and showed her. She’d guessed right. She wrestled it from him and laughed riotously, “You cheated! You pushed the answer at me!”

“I did not! You know I wasn’t sending you anything. Just helping you focus.” She kept tugging at his arms, accusing him of cheating, when she realized yet again that she’d let her hands roam onto his bare skin and she was being brought under his spell. She let go of him quickly and smoothed her shirt.

They played the game a while longer until Lillian had enough. But he’d been keeping track of her wins, and they’d gone through enough rounds to make it an acceptably large sample. In other words, his rough figure was statistically significant, and her batting average was a lot higher than the average 1.9% chance a regular guesser would have of getting the cards right over time. When she’d gotten fed up with guessing the numbers, he convinced her to keep going just with the colors. That’s when it got interesting. She should have guessed right half the time. She was spot on over 80% of the time.

He laid on his back in contemplation. Lillian had gone off into the kitchen and fixed herself a cup of tea. While it was steeping, she poured the rest of the water in a pan and warmed a drink for him as well. She hadn’t made mention of the fact that he had only been drinking O+. Best to not poke that fire. When it was ready, she brought the now body temperature bag and her own mug back out to their spot on the floor. Godric had gone into downtime. She squeezed his shoulder and he came back around. By now, she’d gotten used to how vampires tended to do this. She wondered if they could ever just space out so deeply that they never woke up. The thought sent a shiver down her back.

“Are you cold? I can add more wood to the fire,” he offered.

“No, I’m fine, just had a creepy thought. Anyways, your electricity bill is going to be hideous after this.” It was mid-July in Louisiana. They had the A/C running at max to offset the heat from the fire. Godric wanted to have the blaze and her protests were half-hearted. He said something breezily about doing enough to save humanity and that they could be wasteful just this one night.

“What…how do you say…creeped you?”

“Nothing, really.” She sipped at her tea.

 _Confess_ , he sent the warm impulse through her.

She grumbled. “You know, I’m getting so used to talking like this I’ll never be able to be around normal people again. Half the time I don’t know if what I’m feeling is me or you or what.”

“Tell me.” She told him about her errant thought regarding downtime and he was very still.

“Yes,” he said, not offering more. She gaped in horror. Vampires could slip into oblivion, caught in a body that couldn’t die. It was beyond cruel. The topic had clearly disturbed Godric.

 _Love_.  _Safe,_  she sent to him in a big push. He surprised her when he sat up and wrapped his arms around her. Weren’t they trying to avoid trouble? If that were the case she probably shouldn’t be sending him happy love thought bubbles. But she really couldn’t help it, it’s how the bond made her feel.

He answered back, kissing her hair _Love. Stay. Family_. He pulled away and lay back down on the rug, mindlessly biting into the bag she’d brought him.

She watched in fascination. The dark blue heather shirt he was wearing brought out the muted blues in his eyes. It also showed off the indigo blue tattoos around his arm and neck. She flopped down on her belly next to him and traced a finger over the neat stacks of zigzagged lines on his arm.

“Would you tell me about them?” She’d been dying to ask.

“Of course, darling.” He pulled off his shirt without further ado. So much for the fully clothed rule she’d instituted. She had to practically beg him to try to wear more than the linen pants he seemed content in. All that skin was just too distracting to the vampire blood in her system. He sat there now, gazing at her with his soft expressive eyes and beautifully curved mouth.

“This,” he touched the collar around his neck. “This was put on me when I ascended to power. I was a Druid, a kind of aristocratic shaman king. Every blade along this marks an important event in my human life – mostly they stand for battles won. Normally these collars were quite short, like a choker around the neck. But I had much to celebrate.” He smiled softly. Lillian traced the elegant sweep of the design that hung well below his clavicles.

“Now these…these stand for water.” He showed her his bicep. “It was the element with which I had the strongest affinity, the element that guided my spirit. It was said I would travel far over many seas, and it would be on the sea that I would find my destiny.”

“Did you?”

“I think so, yes. I found Eric dying a few meters inland from the North Sea. He was already in his longship, waiting to be pushed to out in a blaze and sent to Valhalla.”

Lillian trembled, hearing how close her sweetheart had nearly come to death. It probably wasn’t the only time, but she’d rather not think about that. Godric turned around to show her his back. From the base of his neck down the length of his spine slithered a dragon. It was incredibly ornate and done in green ink. Celtic knots swooped and looped through it, bringing its tail all the way back into the dragon’s mouth. Lillian let her hand pass over it, as if to pet it.

“It’s an ouroboros,” she whispered. He nodded. The snake or dragon who bit its own tail symbolized eternity. “That sure became more appropriate as time wore on.” He chuckled, agreeing.

“The red circle on my shoulder is an early form of a sigil, a family crest. It marked me as a keeper of my people’s sacred grove, where our spirits and gods lived.”

“These colors, Godric…the indigo blues and the red especially…the ochres used to make them must have been very rare in your time, no?”

“Indeed.” He turned back towards her and showed his other arm. Double lines circled his bicep, inside which there were the funny little squiggles of the rune alphabet. “That was my title.”

“What does it say?”

“Something like ‘Godric the Great. King. Warrior. Leader of men.'”

“Yeah right. It probably says ‘Chicken thief and lover of goats.'”

He fell back on the rug, howling in laughter. He was wheezing he was laughing so hard, and there was a pink blood mist around his eyes. He wiped at it with his shirt.

Lillian got up, remembering something. Over the mantle hung Eric’s sword. She was surprised he hadn’t taken it with him, but he’d explained that there was no taking it on the plane, and he didn’t trust anyone to handle it in checked baggage. She stood on tip toe to look at the inscription that ran from the hilt down the center of the blade.

“What does this say?”

He was quiet for a moment. “It says Eiríkr, Son of Godrík. King. Warrior. Leader of Men.” He paused again before continuing. “I etched it myself on the 500th anniversary of his turning.”

“He told me this was his father’s sword…I thought he meant his human father.”

“It was.” He lost himself in a far away thought.

 _Share. Our secret. My silence._ With practice, she realized, was getting better at sending more complex thoughts.

“On that auspicious night, Eric gained his gift of flight. He asked me commemorate it by inscribing something on Grendl. It was the only thing that seemed fitting. Eric is the greatest thing I have ever done or made. We are each other’s father, brother, son.”

She was speechless. The magnitude of the relationship these two men shared was beyond her comprehension. No wonder Eric’s blood in her system was screaming to be near him. And what was this business about flying!?

“Eric can fly? Like superman?!”

He chuckled.

“Can you?!”

He nodded yes with a slightly fangy grin.

“Pam?”

“No, not yet….and if I were you, I wouldn’t bring it up. She’s a bit touchy about it. It’s never certain what gifts will emerge and when.”

She mulled over that, feeling bad that Pam was left out so far.

“You should also know, dear child…Eric is flying as we speak. He’s been heading this way for some time. I expect we’ll see him within the hour.”

“Really!?” her heart leapt.  _Love. Come home,_ she pushed out into the night, thinking at him hard.

“I should probably start opening my end of our bond back up. We don’t want to give him a shock, now, do we?”

~OOO~

Eric was tearing across the sky at top speed. Judging by the mountains down below, they were halfway across Arkansas. Fucking Arkansas. He threw all of his force into his forward motion when suddenly, out of nowhere, he felt Godric blip into his mind. It startled him and he forgot to fly for a moment – he and Pam tumbled down a hundred feet or so before he regained himself. Pam had a death grip on his neck, but now she removed one arm in order to beat at his chest repeatedly and berate him.

“Damn you! Fly if you’re gonna fucking fly, Eric! You nearly dropped me into the middle of some banjo picking backwater. One of my Jimmy Choos fell off! I already had to leave everything I brought back in Duluth!”

He smiled, ignoring his child, and regaining his momentum, ripped through the night. Godric was here. He could feel him. He was getting louder in his head. He was…he was at home.

Excitement and desire spread through him. If Godric was at Trädkojan…he was with Lillian. What did he think of her? How did she like him? He couldn’t wait to get home. He hoped his maker was pleased with his bonded. Just a little while longer and he would know.


	11. Ritual (Re)Union

Eric landed softly in a mossy patch of yard at the side of the house.  Pam released her death grip around his neck and slid to the ground.  Looking inside the house, Eric saw the downstairs flickered with the soft glow of a fire.  He walked up the slope of the yard to see more clearly.  His bonded and his maker were sprawled out in front of the fireplace, playing cards.  Blackjack, it appeared.  His Lila said something and they both began laughing. He felt his spirits rise immediately upon seeing her lovely features dance in the firelight.  Across from her, Godric stilled then smiled again.  He’d felt Eric’s presence.

Silently Eric slipped in the door.  He settled on the couch behind Lillian; his maker made no movement to betray his little game.   

“Godric, I say fold.  If you hit again you’re going lose!” 

Suddenly a deep, rich voice spoke from behind her.  “I play winner.”  Lillian startled and whipped around. 

“Eric!”  She tossed her cards into the air and jumped into his arms, smothering him with kisses.  “You sneak, how long were you there!?”

“Long enough to appreciate the view.  Your derrière is most gorgeous in those tight jeans.”  He caressed her face and shoulders. 

“I missed you,” she whispered, pressing her face into the soft wool of his suit. 

“And I you.  I see you have met my maker.”  Giving her another kiss, he released Lillian and went to Godric.  Eric threaded one arm around his shoulders and Godric did the same.  They embraced in this way of theirs, touching foreheads.  Eric’s emotions skipped around in Lillian’s chest.  Words like ‘happiness’ or ‘overjoyed’ seem feeble and unworthy of such emotions, almost base in the face of their mutual respect and love.  How Eric felt to have Godric beside him simply went beyond the pale of what language could capture. 

“All is well, Master?”

“Yes, child.”

He paused for a breath, then chided, “Then perhaps you want to explain why you were suppressing your end of the bond?  Maybe you meant to steal my territory and take my bonded from me…” he joked. 

“Yes, I am afraid you’ve found me out, Eric,” he played along dryly.  “I can’t stand the beauty of Lunsen any longer, and my culinary project has been utter catastrophe – that damnable boy couldn’t boil water if he tried.  All I can think about is how badly I want to live off gator meat-flavored, French fry grease-tainted blood and spend my nights in a soulless strip mall in bum fuck Louisiana.”

Eric snorted in laughter and clapped Godric on the back.  Lillian loved seeing their repartee.  Brothers in arms who had together walked the arch of history, and then some.  Pam came in barefoot, her hair thoroughly windswept and carrying a single pump in one hand.  Without a beat, she reverently curtsied before Godric and gave him a loving and chaste kiss on the cheek.

“It is an honor to have you back again.  You have been greatly missed.”  He gave her an affectionate smile and stroked her chin. 

“As have you, my child.  Come, tell me what news you bring.” 

They chatted casually.  Lillian gathered that when faced with eternity, there wasn’t really a rush to get to the point outside of an immediate crisis, even if matters were, in fact, dire.  She indulged her inner Martha Stewart and played the good hostess, fixing everyone a drink.  Opening the small “vampire-only” fridge she’d insisted they get and keep in the garage, she frowned, seeing it was rapidly emptying.  Much to her dismay, she found herself wondering where, exactly, one could restock on O pos (Eric and Godric’s go-to) and Pam’s favorite AB negative.  Back in the kitchen, she waited for the water to heat and was half listening on the conversation in the living room.  Lillian was fascinated to hear about Godric’s restaurant and his human chef friend.  It sounded like a nice, quiet life.  She felt her stomach grumble hungrily at his mention of a new gravlax he had invented– a wild caught salmon filet cured in pink Himalayan sea salt and served with Szechuan peppercorns, fresh fig slices, and a chiffonade of green scallions.  Lillian was licking her lips when the conversation took a turn for the serious.

“You have flown all the way from Minnesota,” Godric observed.  Lillian’s eyes widened.  He could travel that far?  She thought they must have come from New Orleans and skipped the limo in favor of the sky.  No wonder he’d asked her to heat up two pints for him.

“Yes.  Listen, Godric, I am relieved to find you here.  We have big problems.  If you hadn’t come on your own accord I would have called to you the moment I returned.”

“But you  _have_  been calling to me, my child.  In fact, both of you have.”  He turned to look at Lillian. 

“What do you mean?”

“I believe it was the moment you bonded.  Your blood sung out to me so loudly it woke me from the middle of my day rest.

“How is such a thing possible?” Eric asked incredulously.

“I’m starting to think it is the effect of your combined blood.”

Everyone was staring at the human in the kitchen. 

“Don’t look so worried, dear.  Come,” Godric held a hand out to her.

“Lillian has obviously had an unusual reaction to your blood, Eric.   That she is receptive to your thoughts is rare enough, and even then I’ve only ever heard of this happening to a fully bonded mate.  But for her to hear all of us in the bloodline…I’m not really sure what to say.”

Eric had been equally unsure of what Godric would say.  If not in front of everyone, then later.  He felt the bond tenuously for the signs of Godric’s displeasure, but found nothing but calm. 

“She doesn’t act like any human should around our kind.  Regular people have a deep-seated instinct to recoil from us, Lillian.  It’s like the lizard brain part of you knows we are predators,” Pam explained.

“It’s more than that,” Godric pointed out.  “Eric, the blood draws her to me…as if I was her maker…as if she were vampire.”

Lillian cast her eyes down in utter shame.  Oh god, she could only hope he wouldn’t tell Eric how nearly out of hand she got! 

“I can only assume it precipitates from the unusual tie we have.  It’s intensified by physical touch.”  Eric was about to interrupt him.  “There’s more…”

“Her scent,” Eric automatically filled in his thoughts.

“Yes.  It is extraordinarily uncommon.  Tell me of her flavor.  She was embarrassed to discuss it with me.  As if I’d lay a fang on one you’d claimed!” 

“As if!” Eric snorted. 

“Guys, I’m right  _here_.  Can you not talk about me like a side of aged beef?”

Eric was quiet for a moment.  “She is indescribable, Master.  I’ve never tasted anything of the like.” He gave Lillian a sidelong glance and smirked, recalling how she’d undone him so entirely the first time he’d sunk his fangs into her.   _Laughter, just us_ , he pushed at her. 

“Can you identify it?” asked Eric.

“I have my suspicions.”

 _Need to taste her_ , Godric pushed at Eric.  Then, he changed the topic. 

“But now, tell us what troubles you.  How serious is it?”

“Epic clusterfuck bad.  May Odin guide us.”  Eric hung his head.  Lillian had never seen him even remotely flustered.  It scared her to death.  Pam’s face was tense with worry.  Godric frowned.

Eric ran a hand roughly over his mouth and began.  He quickly went over the events with Longshadow – Godric had already heard Lillian’s version.  He recounted how he and Pam had bid their time at Greysolon’s, carefully observing him and his entourage, gathering as much information they could about how he was organized before putting the screws to him.    

“Finally, I was able to identify his lieutenant.  There were so many young underlings milling about, it just wasn’t clear.  Godric, I’ve never someone – a Lord of the Land no less – keep such ridiculous company!  When I cornered the woman alone, I couldn’t have guessed what she’d tell me.  But when she started talking it suddenly started to make sense.  Daniel Greysolon has been turning people left and right.  Pam and I had seen the missing persons stats for his territory spike, but we were reading them the wrong way.  We assumed he had a couple young vampires running wild.  Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined that people were going missing  _because_   _he was turning them_.  His wallet has been desperately stretched.  You know the economy up there is crap.  Other vampires are fleeing his area because it has been so unprofitable.  Greysolon, despite his frontiersman trader background, has gained a taste for the expensive and doesn’t have a good head for more complex economic work.  Plus, supporting all these younglings has been costly.” 

“This is indeed troubling.  Why do this thing?”

“The underling wasn’t entirely certain.  He’s trying to create a small army of vampires loyal only to him.  It has something to do with something that happened when Greysolon was still human.”

“Well that at least explains why the pompous little dork prattles on about his human years so bloody much,” Pam interjected.

“It sounds like he’s planning a war.  But with whom?  What of Longshadow’s role in it?” asked Godric.

Eric put a protective hand on Lillian’s leg.

“Godric, what do you know of Daniel Greysolon’s maker?”

Godric shot up and in a blink was at the glass window, looking out, quietly murmuring something in an ancient language.

Eric continued, speaking in a low voice.  “I have only heard rumors, whispers really.”

Pam was now trembling. 

“What?” Lillian urged him on.  The tension ripping through the room, not to mention their bond, was too intense. 

“Longshadow was sent here to find Greysolon’s maker.  He was stealing money to fund the search, since his own maker is broke.  Greysolon has sent another of his older children to the Everglades, and he has his newborns combing through the Boundary Waters looking for him.  He’s not yet been located, thanks be to the gods.”

Godric began pacing the room, and Eric pulled Lillian into his lap, as if to shield her from whatever threat now faced them.  The proximity relieved her of the angst zinging through the bond, and she felt safe in Eric’s long, cool arms.  

“As I said.  I’ve only heard rumors.  That Greysolon’s maker was very, very old.  That he long ago went entirely mad.  If there is war brewing, a crazed elder could be unstoppable.  And if he is in my territory, this could bring whatever war Greysolon’s plotting to our doorstep.  What do you know, Godric?” Eric asked his maker.

“Greysolon was turned by an ancient one, of that much I am sure.  Some years ago he lured away one of Lord Edgington’s lovers, a silly flirt of a Greek named Dimitris.  When he tried leave Greysolon and go back to Edgington, Greysolon went into a rage and nearly killed him.  At the time, the Greek was already significantly older than him, and I’ve never known Greysolon to have a reputation for being good at fighting in hand to hand combat.  Only someone with a truly ancient maker would have the strength to get the upper hand.”

“Why didn’t Edgington do us all a favor and kill the little puke for his interference?” Pam asked.

“Meh.  Sex and politics never makes much sense,” Godric waved a dismissive hand.  “What concerns me is that Greysolon must be very weak after making so many in such short succession…….What concerns me even more is that he thinks he’ll find his maker where waters meet.” 

“What’s there?” Lillian asked, still curled against Eric’s chest.

“Not what.  Who.”  There was a long silence and the tension began to build in the bonds swirling through the three people in the room.  Godric poked at the fire and added another log to the blaze.  He stood there, a hand against the mantle, looking old for the first time since Lillian had met him.  Eric slipped her off his lap and went to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.  The light in front of them made them appear as darkened silhouettes. 

The anxiety hung thickly and it started to make Lillian nauseous.  “Won’t you tell us, Godric?”

“In the old world, there is a place where the Tigris and Euphrates rivers meet.  The ancient city of Babylon once straddled those waters, the pinnacle of human civilization.  For hundreds of years, the patron god of the city, Marduk, was worshiped and revered.  Kings took his name, vestal virgins happily devoted themselves to him.  Marduk was, of course, no god, but a very old, crafty vampire.  He was served well by his followers until the city was seized by foreigners and he was captured and bound, carried to a city far from his temple, and locked away for a seeming eternity.   When he was finally freed some 500 years later by a daring young Persian named Cyrus, I believe his mind was already entirely warped.  That long…without proper feeding…”  A shiver ran through the vampires in the room.  “Cyrus returned to Babylon with him, hoping to have his aid in capturing the city.  I was just a very young vampire at the time, I’d not even left Britain.  But news of the fall of Babylon reached every corner of the known world.  Marduk returned to his beloved city only to find the lords using his name to gain their own power.  He destroyed Babylon single-handedly.  I do not know of his fate, or whether there is a kernel of truth to it.  But that Greysolon would be searching for a vampire obsessed with a place where strange waters run together….”

Lillian lurched forward, suddenly feeling a flush of nausea.  The heavy wood-scented air felt oppressive. 

Godric went to her, stroking her back gently.  “I know, my child.  I know.”

“What is wrong with her?” Pam hissed vaguely in the background.

The rotten, sulfurous stench of mud hit her nose.  The world suddenly spun around her and she fainted.

When she came to, Pam was daubing her head with a damp washcloth and Eric and Godric were frantically calling to her.  Her mouth tasted bitter.  She’d vomited. 

“Water,” she croaked.  Pam held a glass to her lips to sip while Godric propped her up on his lap.  “Thanks,” she smiled weakly.  “I’m okay.  I don’t know what happened.  I think the stress over the bond was too much.  I felt dirty all the sudden and it smelled horribly and I passed out.”

“Did you see anything?” Godric asked urgently.

“See?  No, I just…I dunno.  Checked out.” she laughed weakly.  

“Come, it is late.  Eric, help Lillian to bed, she’s exhausted.  Will you stay here?”

“Of course, master.”

“I’ll stay too, if you don’t mind,” said Pam.

“Good.  I think we should all stay close.”  Godric stroked Lillian’s hair and let his hand graze across Eric’s arm, giving him a meaningful look. 

 _We need to talk,_ he sent to his progeny. 

Eric lifted Lillian up and carried her to the bedroom.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to seem weak.  Your blood is doing all sorts of odd things to me.  It’s hard having so many of you in my head at once while you’re all freaking out,” she apologized and slipped out of her clothes.

Eric pulled the sheets up and slipped in next to her.  He nuzzled into her neck, breathing her scent and let his hands roam her curves.  “I missed you.”

“Stay here with me.  I want to feel you next to me while we sleep.”

“Oh lover, I wish I could.”  He began running circles on her neck with his tongue.  It sent shivers down her skin.

“Then let me sleep where you sleep.”

“Perhaps tomorrow.  Godric wishes to speak with me more tonight.  You understand.”

Did she understand?  She suddenly felt jealous.  What would she ever be to someone whose ties ran so deeply through the course of time?  She felt like an insignificant blip. 

“Sure.  I’ll see you tomorrow night then,” she said curtly, rolling over.

Eric felt her agitation in the bond.  “Lila…don’t be that way.”  He wrapped his massive arms around her and pulled her close.  Dragging his fangs across her neck, she couldn’t help but let out a moan.  “There isn’t time enough left tonight to do all the things I wish to do to you,” he breathed huskily in her ear.”

She turned over, facing him once more, and he kissed her passionately.  She felt his fangs slide out slowly.  She caressed them with the tip of her tongue, making him groan in pleasure.  Then, much to his surprise, she pushed her tongue against one of their points, drawing blood.  She winced and the hot liquid began to flow.  Eric’s instincts took over and he growled and sucked at her delicious mouth.  She roughly ran her hands over his back. 

“My lover,” he cooed to her, surprised by her voraciousness.  “There will be plenty of time tomorrow.”  He extracted himself from her embrace, kissing her several more times for good measure.  “Sleep well now.  I’ll see you at first sundown.”

Eric left her then and headed downstairs to the library.  Godric had left the hidden passageway behind the bookshelf open for him.  He walked down the steps that led to their underground lair and into the corridor that held their daytime rooms.  Pam was already in one of the guest rooms and by her silence he judged she was already fast asleep.  He wasn’t surprised to find Godric’s room empty.  In his own room, he found his maker already sprawled out on the pile of fur blankets that covered the bed.  While Godric never could be bothered with creature comforts, he also never seemed to pass up Eric’s indulgences in luxury.  Some habits really do die hard.  Shedding his suit carelessly onto the floor, he slid next to him and gave an unnecessary sigh.

“I’ve missed you,” Godric offered simply.

“And I you.” 

“Pam seems well.”

“I believe she is.  She’s taken to Lillian.”

“So have you.”

Eric grunted in response.  He was waiting for Godric’s fury.  He hadn’t yet sensed his disapproval, but keeping Lillian near him, he knew, went against everything his maker had taught him.  He was surprised by what Godric said next. 

“I understand your fascination with her.  To be perfectly honest, it’s a miracle she wasn’t already discovered and claimed by another vampire.”

“Then you aren’t going to glamour her away?”

“On the contrary.  I think you should bond with her further.”  He chuckled, “If you don’t, I will claim her for you.”

Relief swept through him.  Eric wrapped his arms around the tight body of his maker and buried his nose into his hair.  It was cropped close to his head, much shorter than its natural length.  Godric’s scent flooded his senses, calming him. 

“You have had her blood tonight.”

“Just a taste.  Little imp cut herself on my fang purposefully,” he said smiling devilishly as he recalled his lover’s gift.

“May I?”

Eric parted his lips and Godric swirled his tongue along the ridges of his mouth.

“Hmmm,” he hummed in concentration, savoring the minute traces.  “I’d need more to be sure.  But I must tell you, I now firmly suspect she may be a seer.”

“A what?!” Eric gasped, sitting back upright.

“Your blood has opened some gift within her.  She admitted to having a kind of sixth sense already, to being the kind of person who has hunches that turn out to be true.  Then tonight I tested her under the pretense of playing cards.  She thinks she’s only guessing and getting lucky, but it’s more than that.”

Eric had trouble wrapping his head around this revelation.  There were plenty of charlatans in this world who claimed prescience, but a true seer.  That indeed was rare. 

“If what you say is true, that Greysolon is planning something, then Lillian may be our secret weapon.  Eric, she’s been feeling the danger around us.  She feels it is already here.” 

Eric wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to the question he was about to ask, but he also knew it couldn’t be avoided.  “Do you believe Marduk is Greysolon’s maker?”

“I fear it could be the case.”

Eric sighed again and swore in his ancient language.  Curling up into the furs, he let the sun take up down into his day rest.

“Never a dull moment,” Godric mumbled, kissing Eric’s forehead and letting the sun take him under.

~OOO~

  
Night creatures squawked and chirped.  Lillian found herself wading through stagnant swamp water that came to her waist.  The heavy bow of cypress trees overhead bent down menacingly.  Vile things slithered and stirred under the thick carpet of duckweed that floated on the water’s surface.  Mud sucked at her shoes, keeping her pace at a slow trudge.  The air was rank and humid, everything dripped in decay and rot.  Something deep in the waters called to her.  She continued, terrified, unable to resist.   _Have to know.  Have to know_ , she thought.  Nearby she heard an alligator make its hollow, threatening grunt.  She squeezed the tears from her eyes on forced herself onward.  Something brushed against her leg and she gasped in horror.  Ahead she could see the slightest bit of embankment on which an enormous bald cypress sat.  In its deeply shadowed folds, she could see a large opening at its base.  As she approached, a hush fell over the swamp.  In the inky black, she heard something stir.  Slither.  Hiss in laughter. 

“Hello?”  she called into the darkness, her whispery voice echoing.

She edged towards it, slipping in the foul muck.  A black-grey claw suddenly shot out from the darkness and snatched her into the depths of the tree, breaking her neck and killing her instantly.“Ah!!”  Lillian shot upright in bed.  She was trembling and covered in her own sweat.  Tendrils of her hair stuck to her face and neck.  Her heart pounded thunderously in her chest and she couldn’t catch her breath.   _Only a dream_ ,  _just a dream!_   she reprimanded herself.  But she was still shaking fearfully.  It had seemed so real. 

“Oh god.”  She said out loud.  She glanced at the bedside clock.  It was just past 5 pm.  She slid out of bed unsteadily and pulled a silk robe over her nightgown.  Bracing herself against the doorframe, she took several measured breaths, trying to reel in her anxiety.  She hadn’t had a panic attack like this in years.  And all because of a lucid dream?  Ridiculous.

Downstairs she rifled through her purse, hoping she might have an anxiety pill somewhere in her little traveling pharmacy.  No such luck.  She cracked open the fridge instead.  Well, hell.  It was after five, right?  She pulled out a carton of strawberries and a bottle of wine.  The sweet fruit was wonderful.  She’d meant to only have one glass, but her heart was still pounding and her hands shaking.  She poured another.  It didn’t help.  She wanted to feel safe, wrapped in armor…like she did when she was near Eric.  It gave her an idea. She let herself wander the living room, running her fingers under surfaces and along the walls.  Somewhere her vampires had a secret door.  She went into the library.  Most of the shelves were sparse.  She stopped at a bookcase that had a few more volumes than the others.  She reached behind the she shelves to feel for a catch or a button.  Nothing.  No, it was too obvious.  This was the bookshelf that most drew your eye.  She looked around the room and headed to the case directly opposite it.  It contained nothing but a dull encyclopedia set.  She felt around the backside.  Nothing.  Squatting, she tried the shelf below.  Bingo.  A lever.  She tugged at it and heard a click in the wall behind.  Pulling the bookcase with all her might, it lurched forward.  It was set on tracks, but still heavy.  Lillian tiptoed down the stairwell revealed behind it and into a hallway, dimly lit by recessed floor lighting.  She tried the first door.  It was locked.  The second room was open and unoccupied.  She tested the handle of the third room and found it was unlocked.  Opening the door slowly, she found Eric and Godric passed out on a large bed.  The wood frame was elegantly carved in Viking motifs.  She went back to the bookshelf and managed to close it, and herself, in.  Hiking up her long nightgown and robe from around her ankles, she crawled in between the two dead asleep vampires.  She lifted Eric’s heavy arm and nestled underneath it, wiggling herself against his chest.  Lillian sighed in relief.  Godric’s face was before her.  Whereas everything about Eric’s features was so stunning it was impossible to focus on just one aspect, the lovely arch of Godric’s full lips stood out.  She wanted to run a finger against them, but she didn’t dare.  Instead, she settled her hand in his open palm.  Touching them both, the anxiety finally started to dissipate and her heart slowed to a normal, steady rhythm.  The silence of her newfound bloodkin surrounded her and she let herself drift away into a peaceful slumber.

An hour later, Godric stirred.  He slowly gained consciousness and stretched lazily.  Moving, he realized something warm was in his hand.  His eyes shot open.  Directly across from him, not a foot from his face, lay Lillian, her breaths measured and sweet. 

“How the devil…” he said, not meaning to speak aloud.  This brazen human had broken into their daytime lair to…to snuggle!  He didn’t dare move again, for fear of waking her.  Shortly he began to feel Eric’s life begin to buzz in the bond. 

 _Quiet_  he pushed at his child.  Eric’s eyes slid open, bloodshot.  He wasn’t quite awake yet.  He took in a long deep breath, scenting the creature in his arms.  A smile snaked across his mouth.

“Your human has taken it upon herself to join us,” Godric hissed so quietly it was nearly inaudible.

“I can see as much.  Naughty imp.”  He nuzzled into her hair and stroked her face.  Lillian let out a contented sigh.  Eric ghosted feather-light kisses down her temple and behind her ear.

“Mmm,” she moaned happily.  Yawning, she opened her eyes to find two very curious vampires staring at her. 

“Good evening, boys.  Sorry to intrude,” she purred, rolling towards Eric and planting a kiss on his very surprised mouth.

“What is the meaning of this, Lillian?” he asked.

“What?  You think you get to give me your blood, make me feel all weird and lonely, then hide?  I had a truly terrible dream last night.  I needed you.”

Godric started laughing.  “Or maybe you’re just here for breakfast?” he teased, eyeing Eric.

Godric’s hand latched onto the fingers than had been entwined a moment ago in his own and playfully lunged at Lillian’s exposed wrist with blunt teeth.  “Ack!!” she squeaked.    

Eric grabbed her and held her tightly, nipping at her neck.  “Ah!” she screamed, struggling uselessly as the two men broke into laughter. 

“That will teach you to break into a vampire’s lair!”  Eric said, still pinning her to the bed.  He began smothering her breathless mouth with kisses.  Godric looked on with a smirk.

“Mmmeric…” she broke off his kiss.  “I really did come in because I had a bad dream.  It was awful.  I couldn’t calm down.  I tried everything, the only thing I knew would help was our bond.”  She recounted the dream, blow by blow, and explained how unsteady it had made her feel.  A look of concern grew in Godric’s face.  Eric stroked her hair, attempting to comfort her. 

Godric eyed Eric and Eric nodded very slightly.  They were silently discussing something through the bond.

“Dearest, Eric and I have a theory about what you might be.  It might explain why you’re having bad dreams,” Godric said. 

“What do you mean, what I  _am_?”

“Lila, you know Godric is very old,” Eric explained.

“By my count something like 2500 years old.”

“Yes, a little more than that.  It’s hard to know, really.  You understand in that time he’s seen a great many things.”

Eric hesitated before making his request. 

“Why do I get the feeling you’re about to ask me something I’m not going to like?”

“Lillian,” Godric continued, “I’ve only ever once scented anyone similar to you.  It was quite a long time ago…in Delphi.”

“Delphi,” she said, turning the word in her mouth as if to conjure its meaning. “Like Mount Parnassus Greek gods smiting upon the ruins Delphi?”

Godric laughed.  She could be so unpredictable in her responses, her view of the world.   It was delightfully refreshing.  “Yes, the very one.”

She sighed.  Hanging around vampires was like a constant history quiz that one was doomed to fail.  “Go on.”

“The family that served Apollo’s temple was old and scattered by then, but there was still a daughter among them worthy of the name Pythia.”

 “Pythia…”  It rang a bell, but she couldn’t quite place it.  “I’ve never been much of a Classicist I’m afraid.  I was always more interested in the people the Greeks and Romans thought were ‘savages.’  Go figure, given my present company!”  She slapped Eric’s perfect, tight rear.  Suddenly the absurdity of lying in a bed of furs with an  _actual_  Celt and an  _actual_  Viking struck her as immensely funny. 

“You would know Pythia more commonly as the Delphic Oracle,” Eric offered, trying to keep her focused on the issue at hand.

Before Lillian could respond, Godric elaborated.  “The high priestess and I were close for a time.  She was truly a phenomenon.  And her abilities, my dove, were not unlike yours.”

“ _One of your lovers was the Oracle of Delphi!?_ ” she screeched, pushing Godric’s firm flesh as if to get him to admit his lie.

“I didn’t say that.”  A smile wove its way across his boyish features.  “But now that you mention it, I seem to recall we did more than just consult her library.”

“Lover, what Godric is trying to say is that it is hard for him to tell from your scent alone whether you may share something similar with Pythia.”

“Wait, I’m completely lost.  My family isn’t Greek.  We were all northern Europeans.  Hell, you could be my long lost ancestors for all I know.  How messed up would that be!”

“I’m not saying you are related to her, but that your blood – I suspect – has the same qualities as someone I knew for certain to be a seer,” Godric said, becoming frustrated.  He’d never wasted so much time beating around the bush to convince a human to give him his blood in all his years.

Lillian couldn’t quite wrap her head around what the two men were trying to tell her.  Why were they being so obtuse?

“Lila, since you took my blood, you’ve been feeling more aware, having more hunches that are spot on, having dreams that seem too real, yes?”

“Yeah, I s’pose so.”  It was true, she had to admit it.  Things had changed since she’d bonded with Eric.  In so many ways.

“Lover, let me bite you so that Godric can taste you.  Only for a minute.  Only with your permission.”  Eric looked at her with soft, pleading eyes.  It was hard to believe sometimes that he was the same cold warrior king she knew from Fangtasy, glaring at everyone with disdain from his throne.  Behind closed doors Eric was playful, sexy, maddening, intense…and joyful.  He was truly happy.  Happy being himself. 

Then she broke her sentimental thoughts, annoyed at how they’d been beating around the bush.  “Oh for crying out loud, Eric!  Why didn’t you ask straight away?  Your blood makes me…feel all your sympathies.  If Godric had asked me to dance on the roof and act like a monkey, I’d be swinging from the ceiling fixture right now.  I couldn’t deny him anything even if I tried.”  She jutted a hand in Godric’s face.  He took it, kissed her knuckles, and passed it back to Eric, flipping it over to expose her wrist.  She was Eric’s, not his.  Not his to sink his fangs into, no matter how much he might like to.  Eric licked the veins on the tender skin there and, holding eye contact with her, let his fangs penetrate her ever so slowly.  It pinched and she felt pressure, but he massaged the skin next to where he bit with his thumb and his mouth quivered over the spot.  His flawless technique made it virtually painless, even without the orgasmic fireworks that had accompanied this act before.  He took one pull at the wound, closing his eyes as he swallowed in ecstasy, then passed his prize to his maker.  Godric lapped up the tendrils of crimson that flowed from the two marks and traced them to their source with his tongue, latching on.  The instant her lifeforce flooded over his tongue he moaned a feral sound, squeezed his eyes shut and lurched forward, running his strong hands up and down the length of her arm.  Eric watched his maker’s pleasure and it set him ablaze.  His hands ranged over the silk of Lillian’s gown and he began licking the most sensitive spots on her neck and jaw.  He was already dragging his fangs over his preferred spot on her neck and was ready to give in to his wanton desire to drink from her while his master did, when Godric peeled himself away from her arm and began slowly licking the wound to heal it.   

She could feel Eric’s arousal pushing into her back.  In his thin linen pants, Godric was in no position to hide his own, although as he collapsed onto his back he crooked a leg in a rather hopeless attempt at modesty.  There was something immensely exciting about having two ethereal creatures utterly possessed by your body, prostrate and worshipping before you.  Godric lay there staring at the ceiling with a glazed look, a droplet of her blood trailing from the corner of his mouth.  Eric was still caressing her and grinding his massive erection against her.  She reached over to Godric and wiped the little stream of blood away from his mouth.  He looked at her in surprise.  She withdrew her hand slowly, as if to show him her intentions.  She sucked the liquid off her middle finger and watched as Godric’s grey eyes turned black with desire.  Waste not, want not, right?  She rolled over and offered her mouth to Eric, who began devouring her tongue the second he caught on to her game.  Wild with desire for her, he pulled her on top of him, hiking her nightgown underneath her robe and sliding a finger secretly into her.  She was so receptive, her wet folds squeezed around him. 

“Eric!” she gasped in shock.  

He couldn’t resist her any longer.  He violently slashed his tongue against his own fangs and pressed his frenzied kiss against her mouth.  Tasting the divine liquid, Lillian lost all sense of space, time, and self.  She clawed at Eric’s boxer briefs, desperate to have his body.  He quickly obliged, replacing his thick finger with a very thick member, her robe and long shiny hair pooling around them.  She cried in relief and exploded on him instantly, biting down on his tongue to seek more of her lover’s gift even as waves of pleasure swept her away.  She’d utterly forgotten Godric.  Eric had not, however, and she realized this from the corner of her eye.  He’d offered his arm to Godric, who was now feasting greedily upon it.  She leaned her head down and raked her teeth across one of Eric’s nipples, pushing her own wrist into his mouth.  He bit, although less delicately than before.  The taste of her again made him bellow and he pumped into her mercilessly.  She reached out and wound her fingers around Eric’s outstretched hand, offering Godric her wrist alongside Eric’s.   The growl that issued from Godric was fierce and untamed, and the vibrations it sent through her as she ravaged Eric’s mouth and body set her off again.  Eric was nearly there, and when he began to shoot his seed, Godric savagely bit him in the crook of his arm and they both roared in release and pleasure.

Minutes passed.  Lillian was the only one breathing, quietly laying curled on top of Eric’s frame, her head to his silent, cool chest.  Eric’s blood coursed through her, and she floated weightlessly in ecstasy. 

That was, until she realized what had just transgressed.  “Oh god, Eric!”  she panted, burying her face in his chest.  A contented laugh rumbled out of him. 

“How did that just get so out of hand?!” 

“Was that out of hand?”

He felt her distress through the bond and rolled over, sheltering her with his lanky body and covering her with kisses.  “Shhh, darling.  It’s alright!  ” 

He tried vainly to calm her.  “Lover…” he whispered.  “My love…”   _That_ got her attention.

Godric ran a hand down her arm in comfort, “Lily, this was a good thing.  You are more Eric’s than ever before, he more yours.  That is beautiful, is it not?”  It was true, this meant they had now twice blood bonded.  “Perhaps you only wish I hadn’t been privy to it?  I can leave…”

“Oh Godric, it’s not that…”  What  _was_  it that she was feeling?  “I guess…I dunno.”  She felt incredibly inarticulate.  She let her eyes wander over Godric for the first time since she’d lost her damn mind.  Drinking from Eric must have allowed him to feel his excitement as his own and he’d exploded as hard as Eric had.  He was going to need a change of pants.  She started giggling.  “The last time I even remotely did something this wild was in college.”

“You must tell me of these college years!” Eric said enthusiastically.

“Oh boy, I don’t think I should give you any ideas…”  More seriously, she added, “I guess I just don’t know how I fit into all of this!  Eric, you call me your love and that melts me inside.  I feel the same about you and it’s just confusing.  It’s hard to know how much of what I feel comes from you or is really myself, and then when your blood makes me care for Godric as you do…I…I don’t even know what I can ever be to you when you have ties as strong as the ones you share with him or Pam.”

“Lila, calm down.  You are thinking about this like a human, and I don’t begrudge you that.  But you’re forgetting that you’re not talking about human relationships, or the rules and boundaries and emotions that are tied up in them.  Perhaps you’re thinking that since Godric made me, he is my father, or since I made Pam, she is my daughter.  This isn’t the case.  I had a father, after whom I am named, and several daughters – sons, too – whose short lives I outlived many times over.  Godric is a man who found me seaside, mortally wounded, and chose to give me life again.  Pamela was an iconoclastic woman who wasn’t even suited to an iconoclastic age.  I chose to rescue her while Paris burned its revolutionary fires yet again.  What happened after those decisive moments was entirely up to us.  We simply aren’t constrained by the chains of predetermined relations.  All we have is an eternity of experiences with a person and how we choose to treat each other.  I am extraordinarily fortunate in my maker and my child – most can’t stand each others’ company for more than a few centuries. 

“This much Godric has taught me, and if there is any secret of immortality, it is this: if we are lucky, we have many loves, every one different to the core, from beginning to end.  Why compare yourself to my maker or my child?  You aren’t them, but why would you want to be them when you are  _you_ to me?”

Afraid his response would shatter her, she asked shakily, “What am I to you?”

 “ _Min hjarta_ [My heart],” he said simply but with passion, his eyes blazing into hers.  “With you my undead heart beats again, I know my humanity once more.  Never in a thousand years did I think I would or could let a human in, or even more, be accepted by one knowing what I am.  You are extraordinary, Lillian, more extraordinary by the day.  You give me hope for the unknown, and the unknown is all eternity really is when you get down to it.  I love,  _love_  you.”   

His confession left her breathless.  She searched his eyes desperately, afraid something would reveal he didn’t mean what he’d said.  But there was only earnestness and desire in his face and across their now fiery bond.  She exhaled in relief. 

“I love you too, Eiríkr.”  She called him by his human name, pronouncing it as Godric had.  If she was his human heart, then she ought to speak to him as such.

A red film misted over Eric’s eyes.  He was overwhelmed.  He wrapped himself around her like a cocoon and kissed and nibbled at her, nuzzling and rubbing himself all over his love. 

“You are  _mine_ ,” he said forcefully.

Not breaking his gaze, she responded.  “And you are  _mine._ ” 

Godric was buttoning into a fresh shirt from the dresser and interjected, “I might also add, Lillian, that while you are certainly his, you are also most definitely an oracle.”


	12. The Dragon Awaits

“Oh please, Godric! I know you’re all ancient and worldly and whatnot, but seriously!? Wasn’t the Delphic Oracle some poor virgin that they sat over volcanic fumes and let babble while she was high as a kite?”

In a flash Godric was inches from her face. “Look at me and deny that magic beyond your comprehension animates me,” he said heatedly, his accent lilting more heavily than usual. His boyish features were gone now and he was entirely fearsome. “Deny it!” he barked at her.

“I…I don’t,” she stammered. She expected Eric to tell him to back down, but judging by his complacent look, he knew this side of Godric all too well. She had clearly crossed a line questioning him. In fact, who  _was_ she to question him?

“The prophetesses were some of the most educated, wisest people in the land. Great philosophers, mathematicians, and kings sought them as their tutors and advisors!” he seethed.

“I’m sorry! You know far better than I what you’re talking about. It’s just hard, you know, with so many explanations and histories in my head that I presume are right. It’s the hubris of our time. It’s completely undignified that I should speak to you in that manner. Please accept my apology. I didn’t mean to speak ill of the oracle you knew. I just can’t possibly see how I have anything to do with the kind of stuff that dreams are made on.”

“But you already do, Lily. You’re already in the midst of it. You accepted us easily enough. Is it that hard to accept yourself?”

“She doesn’t have proof yet, that’s the problem,” Eric interjected.

Godric came to the edge of the bed where she was seated. Squatting at her feet, he crossed his arms on her knees. “Tell me, in your vision, the swamp you were in…was it the Louisiana bayou, the Florida glades, or somewhere else?”

“I don’t know how I would tell the difference.”

“Close your eyes and think.” She did. Godric reached to her shoulders and massaged them gently, relaxing her. “If you wanted to find that old tree, the tree that scared you. If you wanted to find it and burn it to ashes, let’s say. Where would you go?”

“The bayou…where the Mississippi runs into the sea,” she said automatically.

“Very good,” he reached to her temples and rubbed them in slow circles, settling her into a sort of light trance. “Where exactly? If you wanted to keep all of us safe, where specifically would you tell us to avoid?”

She waited silently for some instinct, some vision, but there was nothing. “I…I don’t know. I’m sorry, Godric.” She opened her eyes. “I’m trying, I want to help, but I just don’t think I am what you want me to be.”

“It’s okay, darling. Give it time. You already gave us something.”

“I’m just guessing.”

“Eric shook his head in exasperation. “You’re not guessing, lover.”

She sighed, fed up with their persistence. “I’m hungry.”

“Come. Let me make you some breakfast. Do you like omelettes?” Godric asked.

Upstairs Pam was flipping through a magazine and watching a daytime fashion tv show she had TiVoed. “Oh praise god, they emerge! I thought I was going to have to go down there with reinforcements and start stuffing bread, cheese, and blood bags under the door.”

“I was held hostage while these two tried to convince me I’m a priestess of Apollo.”

“Oh honey, you may be Eric’s priestess, but you can be my goddess any day!” she cackled, winking. “Come here, look at this woman’s wardrobe. Can you believe she owns overalls?  _Overalls?!_ Yes, that’s it! Suck those babies down the garbage disposal!”

Lillian shook her head in laughter and went into the kitchen to see what Godric was whipping up. Eric grumbled as he set to work at his computer.

“We’re going to all need to go to the club tonight. There’s a metric fuckton of work to catch up on. Lila, I’d prefer if you tagged along, but we can get Jeremy back over here if you don’t want to go.”

“Oh…no, it’s ok. I’m happy to go in. I should catch up with Pam’s ‘vermin’ anyway,” she said teasingly. Pam punched a fist in the air, victorious that Lillian was starting to come around and see her side of things.

“Actually, I meant to ask. Where is Jeremy from, like ethnically? He was speaking some language that I swear sounded like Klingon. He said it was Daemoni?”

Eric and Godric eyed each other. Smiling, Eric said, “Yes, he speaks Daemoni. It is the language of demons.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Jeremy is half demon.”

Lillian laughed like a madwoman. What would come out of their mouths next? “Let me get this straight. My Viking vampire lover hired a half demon to babysit me while he left me alone in his kingdom.”

“Territory,” he corrected.

“And where, pray tell, do demons come from?”

“Aww, Eric! You need to have ‘The Talk’ with her!” Pam couldn’t resist jibing.

“Can it, Pamela. Demons are from an alternate plane of reality, another dimension. Humans have often called it the underworld.”

“Is it hot? It is ruled by Beelzebub? Osiris?” Her mind buzzed with questions. “Have you been there?!” she hissed in a lowered voice.

“No, and I don’t intend on going there. The point is, Jeremy is good at what he does. But if you’re coming tonight, we don’t need him.”

Distracting her, Godric said, “Lily, could you hand me the salt from that cabinet?”

She went for the canister of Mortons. “Not that, darling. The finishing sea salt, it is in a little jar that says  _Sel de Gueron_.”

Godric dashed a bit of the grey flakey substance over his eggy creation and passed the plate to her. “Now, tell me what you think.”

She took a bite and her mouth melted. “OMmhhgoddric!” she mumbled through a full mouth. He laughed sheepishly and left her to it, joining Eric at the table.

The omelette was perfection. He’d done some kind of a caramelized shallot reduction in balsamic vinegar. There was wilted spinach, some cheese she didn’t realize was even in the fridge, and the slightest hint of fresh nutmeg. It was divine.

Lillian wasted no time devouring it, and soon they were off to the club. The reappearance of the club’s main attractions caused quite a stir, although Lillian had crept around to the front and entered as she usually did. She tried to act casually when her vampires came out on the stage, but they hadn’t intimated to her their plans for the evening. Pam entered in a Victorian getup, except it was entirely black leather and the corset, she was sure, was cut far lower than anything anyone would have been caught dead wearing (pun intended). When Godric appeared and took Eric’s throne, she gaped and stopped midsentence. The kid she was talking to turned to see what she was staring at. Godric had changed into leather breeches that tucked into boots and wore leather bracers on either arm. Around his shoulders nothing hung save for a thick grey fur linked across his chest by a chain attached to two bronze dragon clasps on either end of the pelt. People began whispering and taking pictures, shocked to see anyone but Eric in his chair. Lillian realized it was going to be  _that_ kind of night. The real chaos broke out when Eric strolled out casually in full Viking regalia – a chainmail tunic, fur laced knee-high boots and a fur stole similar to Godric’s, and his hand on the hilt of a broadsword that looked similar to (but wasn’t) Grendl, the blade resting on his shoulder. Women and men alike were screaming to get his attention. Chow stood in front of the red robe blocking off the dias, making sure no one came too close. His heavily tattooed arms crossed, he looking foreboding wearing only a scowl and pair of Hakama pants. Eric made a slight bow in greeting to the clubgoers and brandishing his sword theatrically, he jammed the point into the wood floor making it stick up straight next to his chair as he sat down. Raising a chalice that Pam handed him, he declared loudly, “Let the real party begin! Skål!” He toasted the audience and the screams and music became deafening. Lillian wondered if he was ballsy enough to actually drink blood in front of people.  _Probably_ , she reckoned. People were going crazy speculating about the feral looking Celt sitting in the throne. Lillian had herself forgotten that now he was here, he was technically the Lord of this fiefdom, hence the seating arrangements.

“Ohmygod! You’ve met Master Eric, right? Can you like, introduce me!?” her young informant squealed at her. He was barely out of high school, and still hadn’t really finished puberty, judging by his squeaky voice.

“Oh, well, it was just that one time really. He probably doesn’t even remember me,” she feigned ignorance.

“Aw bummer. He’s seriously, like, my hero.”

“You know this guy isn’t  _really_ Eric Northman, right?”

“Yeah, but. It’d be cool if he was,” he said sheepishly. “Eric’s so tough, all man. But like, you know how in the books, he’s also fair and just? That’s awesome. I wish he’d kick my step-dad’s ass.”

Now Lillian felt bad. “Your step dad is a bum, huh?”

“He’s a piece of shit. I bet the real Eric could take his head off with, like, a single blow.”

Lillian chuckled. “Yeah, but that would be capital murder, and that’s not cool. How ’bout we try to get close for a picture instead?” His eyes brightened. She didn’t know the fellow’s story, but she sensed it wasn’t a particularly happy tale. It was hard enough being young and powerless without having assholes for family members. She decided to play a bit of a game. She’d get Eric to notice him and maybe brighten his day (or night, as it were).

Taking his arm, they wove through the pressing throngs of people. She tried to nudge past a particularly rowdy biker guy, who turned and got in her face. “Back off, bitch. Wait your turn.” He shoved her roughly. Oh,  _that_  would not do. Her temper flew off the handle. Nobody called her offensive names and  _nobody_  touched her. From the corner of her eye she saw both Eric and Godric stand and growl menacingly, seeing the scene in the crowd. The audience screamed wildly thinking it was part of their act. Little did her vampires know that Lillian had been dealing with dipshits long before she had a supernatural backup posse.

“You know what? Go  _fuck_ yourself and the piece of scooter trash you rode in on, you mannerless cretin!” she grabbed the scruff of his jacket and hauled him backwards, pushing him to the front door and the bouncer there. The man’s feet scrambled underneath him, and he was stunned into submission by her shocking strength. She guessed her ingestion of vampire blood had a lot to do with her sudden raging temper and He-Man strength. “He’s not welcome here anymore,” she shot at the bouncer, shoving him out into the street. Returning, people gave her wide berth and let her pass. She and the kid moved to the front of the rope next to Chow, who nodded in a silent greeting.

“Holy crap lady, you just tossed that guy on his butt!”

“Damn straight. Rudeness is a despicable quality. Now, let’s see if we can’t get the big Viking hunk to see us.” Eric didn’t move, but she knew he’d heard her. She felt a tinkling laughter over the bond.

 _Wait,_  she told him.

She and the kid waved frantically at the stage for some time, just like everyone else.

 _Kid. See now_ , she pushed at Godric and Eric.

Finally, Godric turned and whispered something to Eric and he looked out into the crowd and Godric pointed out a young goth dressed off the rack from Hot Topic. Eric flicked a finger at him.

“Ohmygodohmygod! Is he calling me up? NO! Me?! Ohmygodohmygod!” he started to hyperventilate.

“Yes! Can you believe it!? Here, wait, don’t forget your camera. I’ll take pictures for you!” she helped him and pushed him through the rope Chow was holding up for him.

 _He’s sad. Cheer. Hope_ , she sent, praying they’d understand what she meant.

The boy clambered up the stage and knelt deeply in front of Eric and Godric. The poor darling was shaking.

“Rise youngling. Whom am I addressing?”

“An…Andrew…sir.”

“Andrew? What is your father’s name?” he said a little harshly.

“T..ttt..Thomas Ccc..Coleman, sir. But…he’s…he’s dead, sir.”

“And so am I,” Eric responded dryly. Before he could continue, the human spoke again.

“That’s so rad!” he said breathlessly. Eric resisted the urge to roll his eyes hearing someone address him like a surfer boy.

“This is Master Godric. You may bow to him to show your respect,” Eric said, curtailing any attempt to shake hands. Andrew awkwardly bowed in imitation of something he must have seen in Lord of the Rings. It really was precious, to be honest.

“I am so freakin’ honored, ya’ll.” Godric humored him with a nod.

“Sit, Andrew of Shreveport, son of Thomas Coleman!” Eric commanded. Andrew took the chair and looking out in the audience, lit up when he saw Lillian still there and gave her a thumbs up and a big goofy grin. She snapped several shots of the trio. The club was absolutely packed. Word got out quickly when something was happening at Fangtasy. No need to advertise. It was pretty crazy.

Eric was a good showman. Pam brought Eric’s guest a coke in a glass and he made an ordeal of smashing it on the ground and demanding that she bring him a drink in a chalice like his and Godric’s. The people went wild, loving every minute of it. Pam stomped off to replace the soda.

“You are young yet. Tell my liege and I what your plans are for yourself.”

“Well, I don’t really know. Sometimes I think it would be cool to go to art school. I like drawing stuff, like comic books, graphic designs, and stuff. You know? But, uh…my mom’s not got a lotta money and her new husband’s unemployed, so…”

Godric interrupted. “My  _son_ ,” he said, using the Swedish pronunciation, “Every man must be his own man. You say you ‘think it would be cool’ to pursue the arts? You either want to do it or you don’t. If it is the former, then you should forget the rest and see that it is done. You are the only one at the helm of your ship.”

“Wow, man, that’s like, a really good way of seeing things.”

“Have you any talent?” Eric inquired.

“Like, at drawing? Yeah, I used to win these local contests and stuff!” his face visibly brightened. “But now, you know, I gotta work two shifts to keep the lights on, put food on the table. It ain’t easy.”

“No, it is not easy. Nothing worth having is. This man in your home, he does nothing to support his family? Your mother is struggling by herself?”

He nodded in embarrassment and suddenly found his shoes to be the most interesting thing in the room.

Eric continued. “He is no man. You are the man of the house now, whether anyone else sees it or not.”

“You must prove it by being true to yourself and finding your fate,” Godric added.

“In my day we went  _Viking_ , maybe college is this for you? You must do what is necessary. Only then, when you are armed with knowledge of the world and can make use of it will you be able to come home and take charge of matters.”

“Woah, that’s like, majorly deep. I’m gonna seriously think about what you’re saying. You guys are good actors, man!”

“Now, I see there is a pretty girl over there that’s been looking at you ever since you came up here. See the woman there with the pigtails?

“Oh, nuh uh! The one that looks like the NCIS chick?”

“Uh…yes.” Eric lied, having no clue what he was referring to. “Why don’t you go buy her a drink.”

“Yes sir, Master Eric!”

“Good. You can keep the cup,” Eric added nonchalantly.

“Really!” his voice cracked, clutching his goblet.

He shrugged noncommittally.

“Thankyouthankyou sooooo much! You guys are the best! Wait till I tell my friends!”

Andrew scrambled down the stage and a crowd of people came crushing around him to ask what the men had said.

 _Thank you. Love_ , Lillian pushed at Eric.

 _LoveloveLust,_ Eric sent back.

From somewhere deep in the recesses of his loincloth, he produced his phone and typed a quick email to his dayman, Nathan Riley.

_Riley – Arrange acceptance + 2 years tuition/books/etc at Bossier Parish Community College for Andrew Coleman, fa. Thomas Coleman (dec.), age approx 20. Anonymous per usual._

Eric hit send and his phone magically disappeared back somewhere into his garb. An imperceptible smile snaked across his face.

~OOO~

Lillian spent a few more hours catching up with folks and talking to a few new faces that interested her. When she’d had her fill, she slipped into the back and let herself into Eric’s office. He and Godric had already escaped there some time ago and she was sad to see they’d switched back into their regular clothes.

“Oh darn! And here I thought I was going to get a closer look at that loincloth!” She set her things down by the door and greeted Godric with a squeeze on the shoulder.

“Mmm, well lover, I am always happy to show you my broadsword,” he waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh, I bet!” She wound around behind his desk and sat on it, giving him a long kiss.

“Thanks for humoring me with that kid. He just broke my heart. I could tell things weren’t going so well for him. What did you say to him?”

Eric summed up their conversation and it made her laugh. “Oh man, you guys went Yoda on him. ‘Answers we have given him!'” she teased. “Poor thing is probably reeling.”

“I think things for him will soon take a turn for the better.”

Lillian glanced and the pile of papers he and Godric had been sorting through when she’d come in.

“Oh lord, did all this pile up in just the last week?”

Eric gave a sigh. “Yes.”

“What is it?”

“Where to begin. These two here,” he held a file up, “are filing for residency permission. That requires a background check and yet more paperwork. Godric’s handling all the public safe house accounts, that’s his specialty, that pile there involves annual fealty taxes, and all of this crapola is related to public food security.”

“Food …security?”

“It is my duty to ensure an adequate food supply for my subjects, for the protection of my kind and humans alike. We run a network of charitable nonprofit blood banks specializing in supplying children’s hospitals and trauma units, although naturally we help many other types of patients. Sadly, not all donated blood is suitable for human use, and there are always unforeseen losses.” He gave her a fangy grin. She got the drift.

“Classy. But it is refreshing to hear that a politician, however bloodsucking, is actually busy with the work of governing, providing public services for the common good and whatnot. What is your safe house network?”

“We keep publically known safe houses for all subjects. Every vampire has the right to shelter. Most are vampire-owned homes and donated to the commons, and the cost of maintaining them comes from a portion of everyone’s annual fealty tax. If someone needs to use one in a pinch, then they must also pay the costs they incur – utilities, etc. My biggest headache is that we keep getting residents from Russell Edgington’s territory who use our houses then refuse to pay their bills. I’m not running halfway homes for fucking Arkansas!”

Godric looked up from his papers. “We are having a border issue.”

“Can’t you just forward the bills to Edgington? I mean, jeez, what vampire is so cheap they don’t want to shell out $15 for an electricity bill?”

Eric sighed again. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. “That’s exactly what we do. It’s just time consuming and stupid. Arkansas can be volatile for vampires. The state has a lower population, less population density and the people are very insular. Vampires stick out there like sore thumbs…but it isn’t  _MY_ problem to manage.” He was getting extremely agitated.

“Well is this just with the housing you’ve got along the border?”

“Yes. I know what you’re thinking. Shut them down? I can’t leave my own people high and dry should an emergency rise.”

“No, that isn’t what I was going to say. Why don’t you just cut a deal with Edgington where he pays your estimated costs up front then you settle the difference at the end of the year?”

“Edgington is a pain in the ass. I already tried that. We’re at a deadlock and I’m not about to press the issue. He’s an ancient.”

“Well fudge. Looks like you’re stuck as the unofficial governor of Arkansas then.” He raised an eyebrow. “Honestly though, is there anything you think I can help with here?”

“Nah. We work fast.”

“You’d think vampires wouldn’t bother with stupid bureaucracy.”

“We wouldn’t, except that we have to play by human rules. If we want to own anything, it’s got to be all above board and then double backed by layers of shell corporations, offshore accounts.”

“It makes me miss Rome,” Godric said wistfully. “Stamp your ring on a hunk of wax and bam, business concluded. Leave the rest for the scribes to deal with.”

The vampires worked late into the night, although at vamp speed, they really were powering through things. Lillian sat at a side table with her own work, but in the end it grew tedious. She got up to check out the mens’ costumes in Eric’s closet. She’d been dying to see them out up close and figure out if it was all reproduction, or if they’d snuck in some of their own things. Running her hands along the soft furs, she couldn’t resist trying on Godric’s pelt.

“What do you think, boys?” She posed, pin-up style.

“I think you are lovely as ever, but women didn’t wear furs like that, especially not wolf skins. That’s a hunter’s stole,” Godric said with a smile.

“Aww, too bad. It’s neat. Is this really wolf fur?”

“Yes,” he replied.

She took it off and carefully set it back on its hangar. She gingerly fingered the bronze dragon clasps. They were new, but still very lovely with all their fanciful Celtic knots. She was tracing the outline with her finger when a wave of heat came over her and she smelled something terrible…then darkness fell.

“Lila!” Eric cried seeing Lillian suddenly wobble on her feet. He’d no sooner spoken then he and Godric flashed across the room and caught her before she cracked her head on the floor. She has passed out cold and was trembling all over and sweating profusely.

“Lila! Answer me!” he called to her frantically.

She suddenly opened her eyes and stared at Eric dead-on in a wild and terrifying gaze.

Then she spoke, huskily, in a voice that was otherworldly and unsettling to the core.

“Where the waters run red. Deep, deep inside. The dragon awaits, the stormbringer sits. But the wolves will have their revenge.”

“ _Jävla skit,_ ” Eric cursed [Holy shit]. He and Godric stared at each other in bewilderment.


	13. In Deep Water

The small aluminum skiff sunk into the thick mud when Longshadow roughly tossed the bound and gagged girl inside. He had found her outside a dive bar on a seedier corner in the French Quarter, and it hadn’t been difficult to lure her away. He pushed at the bow and it freed itself from the embankment with a scraping, slurping sound. The girl struggled against her bindings and made muffled sounds, and he threatened to kick her with a heavily booted foot. She cowered, tears streaming from her eyes, and hid her face in the bottom of the boat. He laughed at his bleach blonde captive, and the engine sputtered as they set off into the swamp. Apart from the hum of the small motor, it was eerily quiet. The night was punctuated only by the indifferent buzzing of cicadas and the lapping sound of the waves against the banks that dotted the waterway here and there. Deeper and deeper they slipped through the inky darkness. Longshadow occasionally slowed the boat to navigate around particularly tricky bends and crooks in the channel.

Nearly an hour later, Longshadow cut the engine and let the shallow boat drift slowly through the dark waters. He pulled a large cooler stowed beneath his seat at the stern and opened it, revealing its contents. It was filled to the brim with blood bags. Fishing out a pocket knife from his vest, he stabbed the blade over and over through the bags, popping them and releasing their contents into the cooler. The girl looked up and could just barely make out the glint of a blade covered in a glossy fluid. She was going to die out here. Her mother warned her not to go to New Orleans for spring break, but did she listen? Now this stringy-haired, tattooed man was going to kill her. She sobbed into the rag tied around her mouth. Longshadow squeezed the blood out of the bags and carelessly tossed them into the swamp. Licking his fingers clean, he started the engine and trawled the boat forward. As they glided along, he slowly poured the grizzly liquid into the water.

“Marduk!” he called out to the ancient vampire. His voice echoed through the cypress trees and the stands of alligator flag. He called again. Moving the boat to a different section of swamp, he dumped more of the blood into the water. He was chumming for a predator.

~OOO~

Eric, Pam, and Godric were sitting out on the balcony of Trädkojan in the sticky summer heat. Presently they were bickering over how to interpret Lillian’s prophecy. They had, in fact, been arguing over its various possible meanings for days now. Lillian had, for her part, grown entirely sick of listening to them and was enjoying a pint of sorbet (and the refreshing A/C) in front of the television. She was sure her fainting spells and anything she might mumble involuntarily during or after them only related to the fact that she had recently started ingesting the blood of a 1000 year old supernatural being. And now, if that didn’t seem crazy enough, she was partially bonded to him. Eric’s expectations, she reasoned, must be influencing her subconsciously and she was unwittingly acting out his desires. It seemed that in all likelihood, if she had been talking about wolves and dragons, it was only because she’d just been holding Godric’s wolf pelt with dragon clasps in her hands only moments before she fainted. No one accepted her view on things and she was happy to let them squabble about it so long as they left her out of it.

Outside, Eric propped his long legs on the balcony railing and leaned back in thought. Despite the humid heat, he dressed in a thin black v-neck cashmere sweater and dress pants. Godric was hashing through the information they knew yet again, hoping that through repetition he might stumble upon something new. “It’s obvious that the dragon and the stormbringer are Marduk. He was often depicted with a snake or dragon in or near water, and as his followers believed he could wield the destructive forces of the weather against his enemies, particularly floods and rain. But this business with wolves? I can only hope it is a metaphor and not actual bloody weres.”

Pam snickered. “Ain’t nobody got time for that,” she said, mimicking some internet meme she had seen.

Godric went on. “Where the waters run red? I am at a loss. This is the problem with prophetic language, it’s so damn obtuse if she can’t tell us more about the images that should be accompanying the information. I haven’t the first notion of who could help teach her to fall into trance without passing out, to stay aware while she was connecting with her powers of vision,” Godric bemoaned.

“There’s a tarot lady next to the dry cleaners on 3rd Street,” Pam said snarkily.

The slightest of smiles traced its way across Godric’s face. He enjoyed Pam’s sense of humor, and he appreciated how her uppity nature pleased Eric and kept him on his toes. He continued, but Eric was no longer listening. He’d fallen into downtime.

Inside the house Lillian tossed her sorbet container in the trash. Realizing it was getting full, she wrestled the heavy bag out of the canister. As she did, one side ripped, sending smelly food cartons and empty blood bags onto the floor. She swore. Thankfully she kept a large box of latex gloves under the counter. Even though she knew that the blood the vampires drank was carefully screened and safe, it still had to be unsanitary to handle them if they’d been opened. She would have preferred it if her roommates would keep a biohazard container, but she felt she didn’t have a right to tell Godric how to run his own household. Snapping the gloves on, she squatted down and started gathering up the garbage. She went to toss a handful of the flat plastic pouches back into the trashbag when suddenly she froze. A wave of heat flushed through her. She closed her eyes and gripped the edge of the counter trying to steady herself. An image flashed in her mind. Unlike her usual imagination, this mental picture felt constricted, as though she were looking through a telescope and was being squeezed through the tube towards the vision on the far end. Swirling water, black and red. Plastic blood bags floating on the churning surface of a wake.

Her heart started pounding and a thick sense of fear coursed through her. She dashed out onto the balcony. The vampires were all looking at her like she was a madwoman.

“Something’s happening,” she said with a wild look in her eyes.

“What is it, little one?” Godric asked.

“I…I think I saw something.” She couldn’t ignore the fact that something was happening to her, not now that she experienced this.

Eric could feel her panic and all of them could hear the rapid thunder of her pulse. “You’re safe. Tell us.” He pulled her onto his lap and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I was picking up the garbage – some of your blood bags fell out of the trashcan.” She quickly recounted what she’d seen in her mind.

A look of concern shadowed Godric’s face.

“Where the waters run red,” she said, recalling her earlier statement. “It’s blood, Godric. There’s blood in the water. It was the same swamp from my dream. Wait, I need a pen.” Lillian ran back inside and quickly sketched a small design on a notepad.

“This was on the corner of each of the bags. They were blue, I think. Does that mean anything to you?” She held it up.

Pam took the scrap sheet of paper. Lillian had drawn two blocky figures, a girl and boy, with circle heads and smiley faces, holding hands.

“That’s the New Orleans Children’s Hospital logo.” She showed it to Eric and he nodded in agreement.

“What else? Did you hear anything or feel any particular way?” asked Godric.

She thought about it momentarily and then shook her head in the negative. “Just afraid, panicky. What do we do now?”

“We go to New Orleans,” Eric said resolutely.

~OOO~

The cooler was completely empty. Longshadow continued to call out, periodically punctuating the night with his gruff voice. He’d been at it for hours now. He was just about to put the motor back in the water and head back inland when he caught a distinct ripple across the surface of the water.

“Lord Marduk?”

He grabbed the girl off the floor of the boat. Terror gleamed in her eyes and she trembled all over.

“Great lord, I bring you an offering!” Longshadow listened, but heard no response.

“Marduk!” Something moved beneath the water. Had he finally found him?

Suddenly an oily, grey arm grabbed the side of the boat, tipping it violently to one side.

“Jesus!” Longshadow pushed the girl forward and she splashed into the water with substantial force. He flailed his arms, trying to recover has balance, and just barely managed to keep himself from overchecking and falling off the other side of the boat. He was still substantially weakened from being tortured by Eric and Pam, and the unexpected motion sent him careening into the bottom of the skiff, arms and legs akimbo. The water thrashed violently and he heard the sound of bones crunching. Longshadow cursed his maker for ever sending him on this mission. He was contemplating how to best convince the ancient to get into the boat with him, when the ashen claw suddenly wrapped its powerful fingers around his ankle, instantly crushing the bone through the flesh. Before he could react, he was flying into the water. The last thing he saw was the flash of white teeth and yellow eyes.

~OOO~

“We’ll leave tomorrow as soon as possible,” Eric said.

“Where exactly are you going?”

“To Sophie-Anne’s court. We need to find out if she knows anything – about Greysolon, about this blood bank theft. And at the very least, I want to give her a heads up that something is going down in her area.”

“I presume she runs New Orleans?”

“Yes, and all of southern Louisiana.”

“Can’t you just give her a phone call? It seems like running  _towards_ the danger is the last thing you should be doing.”

“Sophie-Anne is quite young to run such an important territory,” Pam explained, “but she does because she’s a highly skilled politician and the older residents there are happy with her ‘management style’. Which means she’s one tricky bitch. It’s hard enough to tell if she’s lying to your face, let alone over the phone.”

“I wish you didn’t have to leave again so soon,” Lillian lamented.

“Why? You are coming with us.”

“Eric…” Godric interrupted sharply. His child responded with a cold stare. Godric spun on his heel and walked silently out of the room. Eric stalked after him.

Clearly there was something about Eric’s decision to take her along that bore a certain gravity, however no one seemed willing to explain a thing to her at present.

“Well, poo,” Pam said. “And here I was hoping we could have a little girl shopping time, but Eric will no doubt have us leaving at sundown…” She sighed in annoyance.

“Pam, mind clueing me into what that what about?”

“You should ask them.”

She sighed and headed into the library. Down the length of the secret passageway, she could hear Eric and Godric quarreling in heated, low tones. As if the rumbling feeling she had over the bond didn’t already tip her off. They quieted hearing her footsteps.

“Hey. Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, lover. Godric and I were just discussing our plans.” Eric held out a hand. She hopped onto the bed next to him.

“And by discussing, you mean arguing?”

Godric laughed softly from his armchair. “Just debating. I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring you to New Orleans.”

“And I say it’s better to keep her close, before any more shit hits the fan.”

Godric growled in anger. She was missing something. By their heated stares she could tell they were firing off thoughts through their bond, leaving her clueless.

“Do I have a say in this?” she asked.

“Folly!” Godric shouted, ignoring Lillian’s question. “Eric, you are acting like a newborn vampire, letting your emotions rule you! You cannot risk being seen as a weak regent…and you absolutely must protect her as an asset, bonded or not.”

“What would you have me do? Send you in my stead? How does having my sire do my dirty work make me look?” he hissed.

Lillian could have sworn Godric flushed pink in anger. He said nothing, however, and instead merely crossed his legs and traced the curve on the chair’s armrest with a single, pale finger.

“Guys, please. Stop yelling and tell me what’s going on!”

“Lillian, there are too many of our kind milling about Nola. It’s a mecca for North American vampire. There’s too great a risk that someone might scent you.”

“It is only a matter of time before someone scents her!” Eric growled.

Lillian suddenly picked up on their meaning. She hadn’t thought of this before, but of course it made sense. How silly of her! The second she starts wandering around at night, any vampire who crossed her path might pick up on the fact that she had vampire blood in her. And that would make her an object of curiosity.

Godric sat quietly and contemplated. Finally, he spoke. “Let her come then. No one needs to know I am stateside just yet. I will stay with her in the evenings. Perhaps we can find someone to help develop her sight. You and Pam can ferret out what, if anything, Sophie-Anne knows. If push comes to shove, we’ll make our next move from there.” Eric’s face visibly relaxed and he nodded.

~OOO~

The following evening, the four of them piled into the Audi with a few garment bags and headed out to the small airstrip on the edge of town. On Pam’s request, Lillian had helped her pack. It seems Sophie-Anne kept a very formal court and expected her guests to dress in their finest. She suspected that Pam secretly wanted to show off her very spendy wardrobe. Tonight she and Eric looked as though they were headed out to attend the Oscars. Pam’s hair was swept up and she had practically poured herself into a black velvet gown. A shockingly large square emerald hung around her neck. Eric, on the other hand, made her weak in the knees went he appeared sporting a grey, three piece summer-weight wool suit. And even though Godric was on babysitting duty, he’d put on dark slacks and a light blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She felt underdressed in jeans and flats.

Eric drove at his usual breakneck speeds and soon they were ascending the stairs of a shiny Gulfstream jet. Godric began grilling the man waiting for them on the tarmac. The mechanic nodded and nervously showed him a clipboard. Much to her surprise, Godric didn’t join them in the plush leather chairs, but headed to the cockpit, winking at Lillian as he disappeared through the doorway.

“He’s piloting?”

“Wouldn’t trust anyone else,” Eric said, pulling out a newspaper. “It’s funny. He never took to driving really, but you can’t keep him out of the skies.”

Lillian took the opportunity to wander the cabin as soon as they were off the ground. It was still hard for her to believe anyone lived in such extravagant luxury or –gasp – owned things like planes. There was an actual bedroom on board! Eric caught her peeking in it and with a wily grin, bemoaned that with such a short flight there wouldn’t be any time to christen it properly. The flight took less than 20 minutes. She wondered how many other women might have enjoyed Eric’s services in there. But alas, now was not the time to start worrying about that.

Godric’s landing was silky smooth – the plane barely bumped as it touched down. A limo awaited them and she was startled to see that Jeremy, her daemon bodyguard, was their driver. They sped silently along the twinkling city streets. Tourists were everywhere, strolling along the sidewalk in rowdy groups, laughing and shouting. Lillian wondered if she’d be able to explore the city at all, or if it would be too risky. The car pulled up to a condominium just off Jackson Square and Pam led the way to a third floor apartment. Like the safehouse in Shreveport, it too was fairly nondescript, although more furnished and upscale given the posh address. It also was entirely unprepared for a human occupant. Eric tossed two coolers into the fridge – one for Lillian, the other theirs.

“Jeremy will be back shortly with supplies for you. Other than him, let no one in. We will be gone most of the night, and may be forced to stay at the Queen’s residence. Just stick with Godric and use your good sense.”

“Be safe,” she said, and he touched the Nordic compass he wore under his suit with a smile. Then, kissing her lovingly, he headed out with Pam.

“Will they be okay?” she asked nervously.

“Of course,” Godric replied.

He kicked off his shoes and settled on the couch with his laptop while Lillian curled into an armchair and flipped mindlessly through the many channels on tv. There was nothing on and she felt restless.

She sighed. “What are you doing?” She’d noticed that he seemed entirely absorbed in his work and was scribbling notes as he clicked around on the internet.

“I’m making a list of possible contacts who might be able help us develop your vision.”

“Any leads?”

“A few,” he said in a clipped tone.

“For example?” she pressed.

“This Octavia Fant seems like the real deal.”

They lapsed once again into silence. Time seemed to tick slowly by at a painful pace. She wished she knew what was happening with Eric. Jeremy returned briefly to drop off her human “extras” – plates and silverware, toilet paper, etc. Godric took them with little more than a grunt and sent him away.

Out of the blue, she asked, “Have you heard from your chef friend?”

“Yes.” Godric looked up quizzically, unsure of her sudden interest in his human business partner back in Lunsen, Sweden.

She got up and plopped next to him on the couch. “Magnus is well? Anything new going on at the restaurant?” she pressed.

“He is fine. All seems normal there.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Miss him? No. I’ve no reason to think he won’t be there when I return.”

“Are you looooo-vers?” she teased.

“No. I do not keep glamoured humans around me, and lovers must be…this has already been explained to you, Lillian. What is the meaning of…”

“Were you and Eric ever?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Godric gave her a hard stare. “I take it you are bored?”

“Yes. C’mon, tell me a story about fighting Picts or Romans or something.”

“I didn’t realize I was here to be your entertainment.” His mouth was set in a hard line, but his almond shaped eyes were playful and glittering.

“Of course you’re not, I’m sorry.” She slumped against the couch’s armrest. He was here to protect his family…and  _she_ was right in the middle of it. Where she didn’t belong. “You’ll wipe my memory when this is all over, won’t you? You must be furious that Eric’s let it even get this far.”

“You presume far too much,” he replied, setting the computer to the side. “You’re like him, you know. You take your duties seriously and you’re fiercely loyal. You worry about protecting those under your wing. Eric came to me the night I arrived with the very same concern. Every rule has an exception.”

“Why do I qualify as one? Is it my blood or because you mean to use me as an ‘asset’?” she said the latter bit with a little more bite than she’d intended. It was something that had been bitterly stewing over since the previous night.

“Come here.”

“What?” she sat up, unsure what he was about to do. She was suddenly afraid he might bite her.

 _Come_ , he commanded silently. Unable to resist the call, she slid over next to him. He put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into the crook of his shoulder. Inhaling the heady vampire scent of her bonded’s maker and feeling the cool satin of his firm arm, she sighed in relief. The vampire blood coursing through her veins immediately felt contented by proximity to its origins.

“Better?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You have been fidgeting nervously all night. Stop worrying about Eric and stop fixating on all your fears. I have no intention of sending you away and you don’t know what I meant when I referred to you as an asset.”

“I know. Tell me now?”

“We were just going over contingency plans for the various possible outcomes we might be faced with. One includes formally claiming you as part of Eric’s retinue, but that’s a last ditch option and one I’m especially not keen on. The risks outweigh the benefits.”

“Wait, like going to the vampire public and saying I’m part of his court? How could you pull that off? Isn’t it a capital offense to reveal yourselves to a human?”

“It’s complicated. Let’s not worry about that now.” He kissed the top of her head and flipped the tv to a rerun of Arrested Development.

“This? Really?” she asked, as one of the main characters did a terrible impression of a squawking chicken. “I’d have thought you’d prefer something else. Pam likes horror films.”

“That’s because she didn’t live through the Crusades or the Inquisition. There’s been plenty of horror in my life. I like comedy.” He mussed her hair and Lillian giggled.

“I would  _so_  give a dollar to see you do a chicken dance!”


	14. Viking Diplomacy

The din of voices in the courtyard hushed when Sophie-Anne’s willowy frame appeared amidst the crowd of attendees. She gave a short speech welcoming her guests and the cackle of laughter and clinking of blood-filled glasses once again filled the air. Eric and Pam kept their distance and stood at the back next to an oversized marble fountain topped by a tinkling cherub. Light poured onto the grass through the tall French doors that surrounded the garden nestled inside Sophie-Anne’s French Creole mansion. Emissaries, dignitaries, representatives and officials of every sort milled about, greeting each other with guarded bows and curtsies. One such character cornered Eric, wanting to know all about his business model for Fangtasia. Bored by their banter, Pam began plucking the petals off a potted gardenia topiary and flitting them spitefully into the little statue’s watery stream.

“Dammit Pamela, cut it out,” Eric grumbled under his breath. He turned back to the dignitary of something such and continued pretending to listen, all the while keeping a hawk eye on the regent chatting across the courtyard. Pamela snapped an entire blossom off the shrub and wistfully stuck it into the elegant coils of her coif. She then snatched a champagne flute of blood from a waiter. In the groups of guests she spotted the long, curling blond locks and violet eyes of one particularly infamous New Orleans vampire. He was surrounded by young admirers. She raised her glass to him and he nodded, similarly toasting her from afar.

Using his perfect peripheral vision, Eric saw that Sophie-Anne had been similarly cornered by an exceptionally dull vampire. It was the perfect opportunity to make his move.

“Begging your pardon, sir, I believe Lady Leclerq has just summoned me,” he said, escaping his own interlocutor.

Eric strutted confidently across the garden towards his target, Pamela in tow. The guests whispered in recognition and a few even bowed – not a particularly clever thing to do in someone else’s court.

Putting on a megawatt smile, he purred, “Sophie-Anne, how lovely to see you!” They gave each other air kisses on the cheek. He turned to her underling guest and waved him away. “Sssssk. Run along now.” The vampire stumbled backwards, speechless.

The porcelain skinned redhead tossed her hair, clearly aware of her beauty. “Now you’ve been terribly naughty, Eric, not telling me you were coming. I didn’t get to announce your presence properly!”

“Surely you mean ‘show me off properly’?” he said flirtatiously. Sophie-Anne just  _loved_  to demonstrate her power. Being seen with high-profile company, especially that of a regent who had 4 times been voted as “America’s Sexiest Vampire Lord,” was one of her favorite hobbies.

“Ah well, that too,” she feigned a sigh. “Is this a courtesy visit or shall we take this little party into the conference room?”

“Conference room, I’m afraid.”

“I suspected as much. You never come see your Sophie-Annie boo just for fun,” she said in a pouty, almost babyish voice. Eric  _hated_ babytalk. He especially despised it in women, never mind that he thought it incredibly undignified behavior for a ruler.

Once they were situated around a large oval conference table, Sophie-Anne called her second in command, Andre, over the intercom. The swarthy vampire joined them moments later. He had been turned young and had the devastating good looks of a  _telenovela_  soap star.

“What can we do for you, Mr. Northman?” Sophie inquired.

“I have reason to believe a certain Longshadow has defected my territory and may be in New Orleans. He has committed offenses against me and mine and has not served out his punishment in its entirety. I have come to seek his extradition.”

“I see,” she said in a bored voice. “It is unfortunately the case that many of our kind abandon…how shall I say…less vibrant areas for our fair city. What do you think failed to keep his interest in yours, Eric?”

Eric’s face was a mask. He refused to engage in her baited comment. He had made the mistake of sleeping with this wretched woman once and ever since she took every opportunity to make it seem as though it had been  _her_ choice not to continue the relationship. As if! Through the bond Pam was sending him a gagging sensation. He kicked her under the table.

“We also have received information that suggests the New Orleans Children’s Hospital may have been robbed of blood. As you know, it is not part of our blood bank system and such an anomalous theft will not go unnoticed by humans. It is unclear if the two incidents are connected.”

“And how have you come by this intelligence?”

“I am not at liberty to disclose that.”

“Hmm…you know I don’t care much for secrets, Northman. So. You can’t control your own people and they are now running amok on my land. It’s funny you should choose this particular moment to come visit me.” She turned to Andre. “Bring in our guest, dear.”

When Andre returned with none other than Daniel Greysolon, Eric struggled to keep his mask of indifference.

“Now here’s one I didn’t expect to see again so soon.” Greysolon said, taking a seat across the table from Eric. “Of course, your company,  _ma belle_ , is always away too long,” he fawned at Pam. She sent another gag reflex to Eric, but only once, fearing he’d punish her later and realizing the situation had just become thorny.

“Sophie, what are we to make of such a coincidence?” the Lord from Minnesota asked.

“I was just going to ask the same,” she replied viciously.

“My child! My beautiful child was killed last night!” Greysolon wailed dramatically.

“Condolences, Greysolon. This is unhappy news,” Eric said.

“I felt his life blink out in my soul like a shattered star! I dwell in darkness! I demand restitution, Eric!”

“You want to be paid? I myself only just arrived to search for him. And funnily enough, your accountant has not wired the amount you owe me. Perhaps you should fire him since he is not following orders.”

“Longshadow was one of my first progeny. I cherished him!” he continued to wail. No blood tears, however, leaked from his eyes.

“Oh save your lies!” Eric pounded his fist in the table, denting the wood, “You’ve sired more fucking children than a rabbit!”

“Restitution, Viking!”

“You mean before or after you pay me for what he’s stolen from me?” Eric’s fangs slid down threateningly.

“Did you not already resolve this matter weeks ago, Eric?” Sophie-Anne asked. “You’ve aired your grievances, the both of you. Certainly this money business can be sorted. What we are talking about presently is the fact that Longshadow has met his true death.  _And in my backyard_.” She tapped a single fingernail pointedly on the table at each word. She then pretended to act confused. “Now…who could have motivation to do that?”

“I swear to God I will make you pay for this, Northman. Your pretty boy ways and hoity toity bloodline will only get you so far.”

Eric rose slowly to all 6’4″ of his staggering height, his razor sharp fangs fully extended. In a flash he was in Greysolon’s face, grabbing him by the shirt and half dragging him over the table.

“ _Are. You. THREATENING ME?_ ” Eric hissed.

Greysolon swallowed in fear. Funny how such a human reflex – to seek comfort in nursing like an infant – could last even into immortality. Eric tossed him back and, smoothing his coat, sat down.

“If I had wanted to kill Longshadow, I would have. I certainly was well within my right. But I chose not to, because a free rat always runs to its nest. And I’m more interested in figuring out what the Rat King is up to.” He glared at Greysolon.

Sophie-Anne jumped in. “Eric, we were apprised of the hospital theft some days ago. There is evidence of vampire involvement, but Longshadow is not a suspect.”

“Then who?”

She smiled like a viper. “Why, you are, my dear. Your hair was found on the scene.”

Eric scoffed. “You must be fucking kidding me! I’ve been seen in my club by the human public every night this week.”

“Lord Northman, may I please remind you of your language in front of her Ladyship,” Andre said.

Eric set his gaze slowly on the regent’s second. He looked him up and down with a deadly stare. He wouldn’t dignify the slime with a response – even Pam knew to keep her mouth shut at a meeting of regents. He turned back to her “highness.” “How  _dare_ you two accuse me of such a base crime. I come here as a courtesy and you toss these fabrications at me? Sophie, I suggest we now discuss what I really came to talk about. Lord Greysolon, the lady and I have a matter to broach.”

“We haven’t resolved this! I expect restitution for this grievance!”

“Yes, you would, wouldn’t you. Now leave.” For a split second, Greysolon appeared undecided about what to do before a low rumbling growl from Eric sent him packing.

Eric rested his forehead on the steeple-point of his fingers. He was no fool. Sophie-Anne was obnoxious, true, but she was as cunning as they come and they needed all the help they could get.

“I have had just about enough of Daniel-fucking-Greysolon. Sophie, he’s up to something. He’s turning vampires left and right. He had Longshadow steal my money and he can’t repay even this measly amount because he’s flat broke. But where the real concern lies is that he ordered Longshadow to retrieve Greysolon’s maker down here, in  _your_ backyard, as you say. I suspect the blood theft is related. To rouse Greysolon’s maker or feed him or some such. Hell, maybe he ate Longshadow, too.”

“How convenient for you. I suppose you are going to tell me Longshadow planted evidence at the hospital to incriminate you? Do continue, I find this all very amusing, Viking.”

“Do you have any fucking idea who his maker is?” He looked at Andre, daring him to correct his language again. Andre cast his eyes elsewhere.

“Well, of course there were always the rumors…”

“They’re true. Worse than true. He’s a true ancient of the old world and he’s gone feral. What in the name of Odin does this fool want with this mad dog of a maker and an army of vampire weaklings?”

All the ostentation had drained from Sophie-Anne’s demeanor.

“You are positive?”

“Sophie, I could not be more dead serious. I have heard this ancient was the sole force behind the fall of Babylon.”

“War?” she all but whispered. “But that is madness. Greysolon must be greatly weakened from having made so many younglings…”

A lightbulb suddenly went on. “That’s it. J _ävla helvetes…Det_ _är det!_  He needs his maker to re-strengthen him! It’s been right in front on me this whole time.” [Fucking hell…That is it!]

Eric leaned back in his chair. The implications hit him. All along he’d conflated the theft of his money with Longshadow’s attempt to trap him, thinking the two were related, when in fact these were entirely separate issues. Longshadow had meant to incapacitate Eric and pass him along to Greysolon so that he could  _feed_  off of his powerful old blood!

~OOO~

Not far from Sophie-Anne’s court, Lillian had fallen asleep on Godric’s shoulder in the safehouse. He had turned off the television program and clicked off the table lamp to let the human woman sleep more comfortably. Enjoying her warmth and sweet scent, he had stretched out and relaxed into downtime when suddenly he went rigid with Eric’s white-hot fury. Whatever had him going couldn’t be good news. Godric monitored the emotions coming through their bond, carefully trying to distinguish the tenor of situation. Eric’s anger built and built. He wouldn’t intervene with a maker’s command unless absolutely necessary. Best not allow him to slaughter the whole court. He chuckled to himself and shook his head. His child loved nothing more than a good fight.

~OOO~

Eric sat up and bellowed, “GREYSOLON! In the name of Freya I shall send you to your true death!” Surely the entire compound heard his roar, if not the whole block.

Pam grabbed his shirtsleeve, “Eric. No! We still don’t know if he’s found Marduk or who they mean to fight! Please, master!”

Eric jerked his arm away from Pam and tore off down the hall.

“Well fuck,” she muttered.

His fangs hung glistening and his lips were parted, inhaling and tasting the scent of his prey. He tracked the scent to a room and using only a fraction of his strength, kicked the wooden door clear off the doorframe. Greysolon had been in the midst of feeding from a glamoured human, and he tossed the girl away and screamed at the furious blond warrior charging at him.

“Northman, stop! Stop!” Eric grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and dragged him out of the room and back down the hall to the conference room. He slammed the smaller vampire on the table and he held him, pinned there, by the neck. Greysolon struggled to free himself.

Boring his glacial eyes into Greysolon’s, he thrust every bit of his glamouring energy into him. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t end you this very instant! Quit thrashing about!”

Greysolon went limp. Sophie-Anne cocked her head to the side, unclear about what magic Eric was working on the Lord of Minnesota.

“Tell me,” Eric commanded.

“The wolves are moving in on us. They’ve been streaming in from Canada by the hundreds. I needed more vampires to keep our community safe.”

“We have no beef with the weres. Why would you fear them? Why would you hide this from your fellow regents? We could have brokered a favorable peace.”

“I have an age old blood debt with the weres. They will never settle. Nor will I.”

“And your master?”

Greysolon started laughing. Eric gritted his teeth and poured his force into his glamour.

“Marduk has arisen. Our bond opened the moment Longshadow’s snuffed out. He is coming.”

Eric looked at Sophie-Anne.

“Kill him,” Sophie-Anne spat. He turned back to his enemy and was suddenly punched in the gut by his maker’s call.

_CALM._

Eric paused, taking a deep, measured breath.

He blinked several times, regaining his composure. “We might need him.”

“Fucking kill him, Viking!” Sophie-Anne screamed. Eric’s prey drives were dampening. He was thinking more clearly through his blood lust.

 _Thank you_ , he sent, silent as a prayer, to Godric. He was just about to do something foolish.

“No, we must keep him alive for now. We can use him. Greysolon’s the only one who can locate Marduk now that he once again senses him through their bond.”

Greysolon began once more to pointlessly resist Eric’s hold.

” But, upon my word, I will run him through with my blade when this is finished,” he hissed.

“Indeed.” Sophie-Anne pressed her intercom and called for the guards to come silver Greysolon and place him in custody.

Once the guards dragged him off, Andre spoke up, “Lord Northman, what did you do to him? He squealed like a pig! You didn’t even need to torture him.”

“Ah. Children, children.” Eric took Andre by the hand and stared at him deeply, then beckoned Sophie-Anne to him as though he were about to divulge a great secret. He stroked Sophie-Anne’s face with his thumb, causing her give a genuine smile – the first of the evening. He gazed at her, and again at Andre, with every fiber of his preternatural being.  
“Greysolon is a coward. He told us everything without prodding. You will remember nothing peculiar about how I extracted information from him, except that my powerful physique overwhelmed him entirely.” He couldn’t help throwing that last bit in.

Eric dropped their hands and spun quickly around to Pamela, his hand covering his mouth. Her eyes registered her maker in shock, but she made no motion to betray it. He threw his arm around her and marched out, quipping loudly over his shoulder, “So like I was saying, I’m famished after this business. We’ll see you tomorrow, Sophie-kins. Ta-ta, my beauty.”

They sped down the hall, Eric keeping his head down all the while.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Eric!” A trickle of blood was streaming out his nose and he was furiously trying to wipe it away and lick the evidence off his fingers.

“Are you okay?” Pam said with slight panic in her voice, handing him a handkerchief.

“Yes, let’s just get the hell out of here.” They took the front entrance out of the house and walked quickly – but at human speed – down the throngs of humans partying on the sidewalks. They rounded the corner to their safehouse condo. Garnering the notice of the security guard in the lobby, he shrugged and stumbled slightly like a drunken goon, holding the bloodied, lacey fabric to his nose. Pamela punched the elevator button about 10 times more than necessary. To normal eyes, Eric was just a handsome guy who’d probably gotten knocked in the nose in a bar fight defending the pretty blond woman with him. Once inside the elevator, Eric sighed in relief and gave back Pam her hanky.

“Why thank you master, for this…gift,” she tucked the soiled kerchief in her purse. “Now would you kindly mind telling me what the fuck is going on?”

“Glamouring all of them was too much. This fucking gift isn’t developed enough yet. I thought I was going to break into a sweat! Can you imagine? Gods, let’s just hope it sticks.”

“It will,” she said confidently. She touched his arm and looked with great respect into his eyes. “It will, Eric.” He nodded, and the elevator doors opened onto the third floor.


	15. Shadow Truths

Eric opened the condo door to a dark interior. Lillian was asleep on the couch. The only light in the room came from Godric’s cell phone, which eerily lit up his face as he played a game at lighting speed. Pam flipped on the overhead light.

“I smell your blood,” he observed in concern.

“I’m fine.” Eric crouched down to Lillian and nuzzled her hair. She woke to the sensation of cool lips caressing her temple.

“Mmm, thank god you’re back. How’d it go?” She sat up groggily.

“The short and sweet version? Greysolon is on the verge of war with the weres in Minnesota over some blood grudge and he has successfully roused Marduk. He’s headed our way. I’ve got Sophie-Anne holding Greysolon out in Metairie in a warehouse as bait.”

“Weres?” Lillian said, confused.

“Werewolves,” Pam said, making an icky face.

“Oh right, of course,” Lillian said, still half-asleep and dumbstruck at yet another supernatural revelation.

“It’s too late to fly back home,” Godric calmly commented. “Sun will be up within the hour.”

“I know,” agreed Eric. “We’ll just have to bunk here and hope for the best. We need allies, and fast. Let’s get some emails shot off before we go to ground for the day. Who do we know? We need ’em as old as they come.”

“Thalia is in California. Indira is with her, last I heard,” Pam brainstormed.

“My friend Anouk is in Montréal, she should be helpful. She may know what this grudge is about,” Godric offered.

“Do you have any were friends?” Lillian asked.

Pam eyed Eric warily.

“Yes, I know of several who owe me.”

“And the shifter,” Pam pointed out. “He can help too.”

Eric smirked in distaste and muttered something about ‘spawn of Loki’ before heading into the kitchen alcove. Kneeling in front of the open fridge, he began downing bag after bag of unheated blood. Lillian went to him.

“Are you okay?”

“Fthfiine,” he slurred between slurps.

“He overcooked himself trying to glamour 3 vampires, all well over 200 years old.” Pam, in her typical fashion, had her hands on her hips and was throwing a look at Eric’s maker. A thin smile snaked across Godric’s face. He was pleased with his child. Eric never ceased pushing his limits and he certainly never backed down from a challenge.

Usually a neat eater, Eric finished his 4th bag with a crimson ringed grin. Lillian offered him a damp dishtowel. He wiped his face and then unceremoniously tossed his lover over his shoulder and carried her off victoriously to the master suite.

Before kicking the door shut with the toe of his boot, he hollered at Pam. “Get those emails sent out, stat!”

Lillian landed with a bounce on the large bed. Eric kneeled over his beautiful woman and slowly peeled off her cardigan and jeans, followed by the pale pink layer of undergarments he discovered underneath. She lay there like an ethereal being, hair splayed out mermaid-like and her hypnotizing hazel eyes beckoning him.

“I want to make love to you for all eternity, Lila,” he whispered hotly, nibbling her earlobe and running his hands down her generous curves.

“You’ll have to let me undress you first, you big bad Viking,” she said, reaching for the buttons on his suit vest and dress shirt. She moaned at the sight of his chiseled chest, and began to tease his nipples. In a flash Eric was out of his pants and had Lillian pinned against the wall. He kissed her deeply, rolling his tongue over hers and letting her suck his fangs and lips. Picking her up, he carried her into the bathroom and pressed her against the tiles of the shower. She squealed when the spigot shot ice cold water down her back.

“Eric, it’s freezing!”

“Oh, I’ll have you hot and sweaty in no time, princess…”

He let her slide down the wall, slowly impaling her on the length of his throbbing cock. “Look at me, Lila. Look at me as I make you come.” She gasped as his slow, rhythmic thrusts built a fire deep within her. He leaned back, supporting her between his rock hard body and the wall with only one muscular arm, and ran his thumb in circles on her sensitive nub. Lillian threw her head back, blind with ecstasy.

“Look at me, lover!” he growled, pulling her hair. Rivulets of water glistened like a thousand tiny rivers cascading down his face. In that moment there was only him.

“Oh god…Eric!” She started to fall to pieces.

He took that as his cue. Lillian exploded and buried her face in his shoulder to muffle her cry. Eric reciprocated, sinking his fangs deep in her neck. Her gushing throat and tight little body squeezing around him drove him mad and he came hard, roaring with pleasure.

It was only after they had managed to dry off and tumble back into bed that Lillian really felt like she’d descended from her high. Eric lazily lapped at her neck, healing it. She sighed contentedly and they lay there in silence, utterly content.

She’d nearly drifted off to sleep when a sliver of light from the hallway cut a long diamond across the floor. Godric quietly padded across the carpet.

“May I sleep here with you?”

No one had broached the subject, but Lillian was fairly sure Eric and his maker normally shared a bed when together. Her presence had disrupted the order of things in yet another way. Since they all began living under the same roof in Shreveport, a silent détente had ensued and she had claimed a place next to Eric, relegating Godric to his own room. Now in the two bedroom New Orleans condo, the matter could no longer be avoided.

“I’m naked!” Lillian hissed in a whisper. As if Eric could wake – he was dead and gone for the day. Godric looked confused for a moment, then pulled off his t-shirt and offered it to her. Realizing she was too tired to explain the finer points of contemporary standards of modesty and propriety, she rolled her eyes and slipped it on.

“Underwear,” she pointed to her bag. He tossed a pair to her.

She lifted the covers for him and he slid in, cuddling up next to her.

_Personal space much? Hello!?_

“I have wanted to try this since I woke next to you.”

_Uh oh._

“Try what?”

He toyed with a strand of his hair, lost in thought.

“Waking near you was like rising in a sunny meadow full of sweet aromas and a gentle breeze. At least, I think that is how I remember experiencing those things. I have wondered what it would be like to let the sun take me while lying next to your scent, your warmth. “

“Why?” she breathed, barely speaking.

“Because I have never fallen asleep next to a human.”

“Neither had Eric.”

“We trust each other, don’t we…” His words lingered, neither fully a statement nor a question, while his fingers lightly stroked the curve of her cheek.

“Goodnight, Lillian.” Closing his eyes, he slumped into dead weight. Lillian kissed her fingertips and brushed them over the sensuous curve of his mouth.

“Goodnight, Godric. Night, Eric, my love.” She smooched her Viking and snuggled down between the cool, firm bodies of the two vampires, letting herself slip past the woozy edge of consciousness.

~OOO~

The following night, Godric and Lillian found themselves standing outside of a boutique called “Mystix.” Smoky curlicues of heavy incense threaded through the storefront’s open door and out onto the street. Inside, the shop was claustrophobic in contrast to the wide New Orleans boulevard they had just come from. Stacks of books, trinkets, and crystals crammed every shelf. The register was barely visible behind cluttered arrangements of powder-filled apothecary jars, bottles of sacred water, and purported love potions.

“Hello?” Lillian called out warily. Godric looked around the store in childlike fascination. He picked up a sequined belly dancer top and raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Put that down!” she hissed, pulling him away from the display. This place creeped her out. It wasn’t at all what it was pretending to be, which was just another new age hokum voodoo shop on the well-beaten tourist circuit. No, she’d felt it when they crossed the threshold. A cold shiver had run through her.

A tall and strikingly pretty older woman suddenly pulled aside a tinkling shell and bead curtain partitioning off the room.

“Hello. How ya’ll doin’?” she said in a lovely Cajun drawl.

“Hi, um. I’m looking for Octavia Fant? Is that you?”

“Yes?”

Godric spoke up. “We are told you can evaluate this child’s gift. Can you?”

 _Good lord, Godric_ , Lillian thought to herself.  _Could you be any more conspicuous?_

The woman looked over Lillian, who was clearly a good 10 years senior to the the pale youth with her.

“What can she do?”

“You tell us, witch,” Godric retorted.

The woman glared at him. She grabbed Lillian by the chin without warning and inspected her eyes, turning her face roughly.

“Oh, you lookin’ for a pure seer, eh?” The woman laughed at the pair, a sound as light-hearted as the pings of a wind chime. It was hard to be offended by a laugh like that. “Not even my great-great-grand mamma knew a true prophetess. Been a long time since we had once of those.  _Hein_ , I can try,” she shrugged, adding, “but my services don’t come cheap.”

“Money is of no concern to us.” Godric produced several hundred dollar bills from his wallet. She made no move to take them and instead gestured to give the cash to his companion, as though she wouldn’t deign to take something he had touched.

“C’mon then,” she said with a shrug and pulled back the long strings of the curtain. The two followed her. Octavia whipped around with a sharp look. “Not you,  _manjasang_. You go on an’ wait outside.” She pointed a slender finger towards the door.

Godric gave a gracious nod. “Then I leave you in capable hands, Lily. Good luck.”

The back room was cozy, unlike the pell-mell shop. Thick oriental rugs carpeted the floor and soft lights were scattered here and there on mismatched furniture.

“Please, have a seat.” She took a place at an old, deeply scored oak table. Octavia sat across from her, smoothing her elegant silver hair. It was swept up in a chignon, accentuating her long swan-like neck. Bangles were piled around her thin wrists and her fingers were adorned with oversized silver rings of various shapes.

“Now what’s a nice girl like yourself doin’ goin’ round with that kind’a trouble?”

“Pardon?”

She narrowed her eyes.

“I…I’ve never heard that term before –  _manjasang_. It’s French Creole, no?”

She dismissed her question with a jangly wave and set a stack of well-worn tarot cards out with a thwack.

“Tarot, seriously? I thought you were a real witch,” Lillian said bitterly, realizing Godric must have made a mistake.

 _“Cher_ , I got spirits that tell me things.  _Petits aides._  So long as I keep them happy, they help me. Tell me how to read the cards, they do” she said with an impish smile. “So…you think you’re a prophetess or is that just what your little friend out there hopes you are?”

“I’ve seen things. Said things. Felt things. But honestly, I don’t know. It’s all really new to me.”

Octavia shrugged and shoved the cards across the table. “Shuffle them nine times toward your heart then set’em back down.”

Lillian picked them up the deck and felt a little zing of electricity run through her. She furrowed her brow and followed the woman’s instructions.

“Now cut’em four ways, one on each side of the center stack.” She made the new piles.

Octavia lit a candle and set it on the table. The flame danced, glinting off the gilt and black diamond pattern decorating the backs of the cards. Her long silver earrings spun about, sending light skittering in reflections across the table.

“This is what we call the shadow truth.” She flipped the top card in the center of the pile. “King of cups, reversed.” The woman closed her eyes, drawing in a long, even breathe of air. She sat entirely still for a protracted moment. Lillian’s anticipation felt palpable in the air.

“Well,  _cher_ , you got the gift. No doubt. The sight is in you. Question is, how you gonna dig it out and watcha goin’ do with it if you do? I see great power within you, but also great insecurity, fear. It’s buried deep underneath all that. You have long desired this power, but you are afraid of it, too.” She squinted her eyes, as if trying to hear something more clearly. “You gon hav’ta master your demons to get this power,” she said in a low, confidential voice.

She turned over the cards on either side of the center card.

“Temperance…and the reversed Tower. These fears of yours, they come from a good place. You want to be calm, balanced. But…” she paused, taking in another measured breathe. “I can’t be clearer about this: you’re walking towards catastrophe. Danger walls you in from every side. You can survive, but at great cost. You must make a great sacrifice.” She paused to arrange the final cards.

“Reversed Strength and Reversed Five of Coins. Hmm, okay ‘den. In these hard times, others will only see your weakness. They believe you can’t defend yourself and wanna take advantage of that if you let’em.” She patted the last card and took Lillian’s hand.

“ _If_  you can face your fears and overcome them, and  _if_  you are willing to be at once selfish and selfless, then your gift,  _cher,_ it’s gonna bloom.” She smiled sympathetically at Lillian, patting her hand.

“Ms. Fant…I…that’s…” she garbled her words. “Sorry. What the hell does that  _mean_?”

“You’ll know when you know, hon. But think good and hard about it beforehand. What’s it worth to you? What you willin’ to do for the sight? What you willin’ to give up?”

The elegant woman ushered her back out to the front room.

“Here’s my card. You call me if you need me.”

Lillian stepped out onto the street, relieved to feel the humid breeze coming off the river after the closeness of Octavia Fant’s shop. Godric looked casual leaning against the brick exterior in shorts and flip flops, taking a drag off a cigarette.

Octavia stood by the door momentarily to give a nod to Godric.

In the lowest of whispers, she said “You have what she needs. But don’t you force it on her, you hear me? You let her ask,  _manjasang_.” Then without missing a beat, she slammed the door and locked it, flipping over the “closed” sign.

“So, what did she tell you, Lily?”

“Fucking more incomprehensible predictions about my fucking incomprehensible predictions. Fuck!” she yelled in frustration. “Give me that.” She snagged the cigarette and took a long drag off it.

“Lillian, cigarettes will kill you! Be sensible.” He snatched it back and snuffed it out under his sandal. “I only had it to blend in. Otherwise I would look like a creepy, loitering man-boy looking for trouble.” He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair, making it stand on end.

“Maybe you are,” she laughed, shaking her head. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here. Sorry you wasted your money on that.” She snaked an arm through the crook of his elbow and they headed off down the street.

“Inconsequential. I found it in Pam’s purse. She is always taking money from her master anyway. I beat Eric for far less serious offenses at that age.”

“You used to beat Eric? That’s terrible.”

“Terrible? If only I’d done it more. Eric was a ferocious warrior and a skilled strategist when I found him, to be sure. But he lacked restraint and his pride, I feared…” Godric closed his eyes momentarily, as if to steady himself. “I have always feared his pride would be his downfall,” he said quietly. “Eric knows Pam’s greed is her flaw. As a maker, we must instill in our children the ability to recognize their preferences and tendencies – anything that comes to pattern their behavior too predictably – for these become weaknesses and can be used against us. Emotions, attachments…these will betray us to our enemies, whomever they might be – humans, other supes, time, ourselves.”

“But can’t that philosophy become your enemy too? So insistently rejecting your humanity?”

Godric laughed softly. “Perhaps. I used to believe life was only about survival or death. It’s only lately that I’ve come to see the value of certain feelings.”

“Like what?”

“Compassion. Empathy.” He let out a little sigh of resignation. “Love.”

“But those are the strongest sentiments we possess, Godric.”

“I know. I see now how they allow humans to connect with each other – how precious bonds forged in those feelings can be for you. It was the meaningfulness I had forgotten – the actual shape and sensibility of feeling towards another and connecting with them in a particular way. I’ve been vampire so long I couldn’t comprehend humans anymore. Human relationships…they are simply incommensurable with vampire ones, Lily; ties of an entirely different order and scale. Surely you are realizing this. The first hundred, maybe two hundred years of one’s life is entirely consumed by the bond with one’s maker, be it good or bad.”

Godric paused to steer them around an obnoxiously loud group of drunken frat boys standing around a bar patio. Lillian hadn’t commented, but he had been obsessively scanning the streets as they walked through the French Quarter.

Glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was too close behind to hear, he continued. “Having you bouncing around in our blood ties now…It is just as confounding for us to adjust to you as it is for you to figure out us.”

“I’m trying. I hope it isn’t too miserable having all of my stupid human feelings and notions about relationships banging around in your head.”

“Ah well, this is what I get for spending too much time with humans!” He grinned and bumped her playfully off the sidewalk.

“Monkeyass!”

“Monkeyass? Honestly, I would have thought a scholar of your caliber had a more refined vocabulary.”

“I’ll take that under advisement. Hey, look at that cute café! Can we stop in for a minute? I could use a drink after all that hocus pocus.”

He clenched his jaw. “No. Tonight’s outing was a necessary risk. We shouldn’t linger in public. I want you to recount in detail what the Fant woman told you.”

“Pretty please? How’s that poem go again…’He who binds to himself a joy doth the winged life destroy, but he who kisses the joy as it flies lives in eternity’s sunrise!'”

He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her. “You’re quoting Blake to me? Now  _he_  was a madman high on toxic fumes.” He sighed, “Come on. You’ve got twenty minutes, not a second more.”

“Thank you!” She grabbed his hand and, bouncing, dragged him across the street.

Inside the Parisian styled cafe, the air conditioning felt luxurious. It was crowded, however, and patrons were stacked up three deep around the main bar. Busboys and waitresses shuffled by with clattering plates and dangerously full pitchers of beer. They found a free table in a dark corner near the back.

“Of course there are tvs broadcasting sports. Americans are savages,” Godric muttered.

“Oh chill, will you? They’re not trying to be a snooty restaurant, Mr. New Scandi Cuisine. Even Eric gets that you have to cater to your clientele.”

Godric smirked.

“Don’t get huffy. Look, the wine menu here is really well developed. Do you want to…” she caught herself, realizing she was about to ask whether he wanted to split a bottle. It struck her then that she couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat at a restaurant with another human being doing normal human things. “I, uh…Do you want to put a song on the jukebox?”

“There’s a jukebox too? Gods, Lillian. I don’t understand. Has the proprietor never been to a Parisian café? They’ve got it all wrong.”

“It’s creole, okay? Fusion? C’mon. I’m curious what song you would pick.” She dug a quarter out of her coin purse. “Surprise me!” Godric stood and scanned the restaurant nervously before going to the machine. Lillian turned back to the menu.

She was still perusing the cabernets when the waiter came to the table, his tray in tow.

“I’m sorry, I’m still trying to make a decision here. Could I have another minute?”

“Of course. However, a gentleman at the bar would like to offer you something special from our private reserves.” He set a square napkin down on the table and placed a glass in front of her. “Screaming Eagle 2010. Honestly miss, you’d be crazy not to accept it.”

Lillian blanched, recognizing that someone had just sent over a glass of one of the most expensive wines in America.

“Who?” she barked a little too harshly.

“The guy over there. Brunette, kinda wirey. See him?”

She spotted the man in question leaning against the bar. The blood drained out of her face. In all that had transpired, she hadn’t yet had the time to ask Eric just which characters in Charlaine’s books had real inspirations. She had captured his likeness well in her prose: diminutive, dark chocolate eyes like buttons, a dapper air about him. He gave a genteel nod of the head in her direction.

“Thanks,” she squeaked, waving the waiter away. Godric was still flipping through the music catalogue. He’d taken his mission seriously.

 _PROBLEM!_ She screamed at him mentally. He whipped around and pushed roughly through the crowd.

“Lily?”

“Oh there you are! You were gone so long. I missed you, baby,” she said stiffly, knowing the unwelcome visitor could hear her perfectly. She threw her arms around Godric’s neck and nuzzled into him, rubbing his scent over her face and neck.

 _Vampire. 9 o’clock._   _Bar_.

Godric spun in that direction, scooping her up behind him. She felt a rumbling vibration resonate deep from within his chest – a growl so low human ears couldn’t pick it up. The dark haired vampire held out his hands in a conciliatory manner and strolled calmly towards them.

 _Act glamoured,_  Godric thought at her. He pivoted then, positioning them so that the entrance was directly behind them.

“Well, well, well…I didn’t think I’d live to see the day the Celt would be out and about playing with his food,” he said in an accent that smacked of old white southern privilege. It made Lillian’s stomach turn.

“What do you want, Compton? Just here to stir up shit as usual?”

“Aw, come now, Godric. You never did have a sense of humor old boy, truly. You know as well as I that I’m just out doing my job. There I was out procuring for her majesty and what do I pick up but the most delectable scent. So here I am…to procure. Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

“ _She is_   _mine_!” he growled, rage bubbling just underneath the surface.

“Pity _._ ” He sniffed the air. “Most curious indeed.”

“You dare threaten me? I could end you before you even blink.”

He didn’t flinch. “Our regent will be interested to know you are in town and haven’t come to court. We’ve just been entertaining your child and his progeny. But of course, I suspect you already knew that.”

“We are leaving. Come, let us go somewhere with a better…milieu.”

Lillian wasn’t sure what a glamoured person acted like, so she had been staring stupidly around the bar. When Godric pulled her to leave, she smiled dopily and waved goodbye to the beady-eyed vampire. Halfway out the door she recognized the song that had begun playing over the din of the restaurant. It was Massive Attack’s ‘Unfinished Sympathy.’

 _How can you have a day without a night?_  
You’re the book that I have opened  
And now I’ve got to know much more

 _Like a soul without a mind_  
In a body without a heart  
I’m missing every part

Godric dragged her to an alley, swearing all the way in his ancient tongue. Without warning, he grabbed her and shot off into the sky. She would have screamed, but the shock of the wind and the immense G-force knocked the air clear out of her lungs. In seconds they had landed by the loading dock at the apartment complex. Lillian sucked in a ragged, desperate breathe and promptly vomited down the front of Godric’s shirt.

“God dammit, woman!” He shoved her towards the lobby.

~OOO~

Safely inside, Lillian stumbled through a series of muddled attempts at apologizing while Godric showered off the human mess she’d left on him.

“I’m sorry!” she yelled from the living room. “Jesus, can you really blame me? I had no idea what I was getting into when I took Eric’s blood. This situation is completely unfair and totally fucked. And seriously, warn a girl before you warp speed her across town! The barf could  _not_ be helped. But I  _am_  sorry.”

“Leave it. What’s done is done,” he responded from the master bathroom.

“But I feel bad about it.”

Godric stepped out from the bedroom rubbing a towel in his hair at vamp speed. “Lillian, the involuntary responses of your bodily fluids is the least of our problems. It doesn’t matter.”

“Fine!” She snapped on the television and sat fuming on the couch.

She was scratching down notes about Octavia’s reading when Eric and Pam returned from their emergency summit at the palace. They were gathering powerful allies from all over North America to prepare for the crisis at hand.

She rushed to Eric and gave him a big bear hug.

“Everything okay?”

“Oh, Eric…” she cried.

Godric appeared clad in a black tank top and sweatpants clearly pilfered out of Eric’s suitcase. They were a bit too large for him, but he wore the relaxed look well.

“I’m going out to feed. If I have to choke down one more freezer-burned blood bag I swear I’ll meet the sun,” He gave Eric an angry look before walking out and slamming the apartment door behind him.

Eric spun around to Lillian. “What did you do?!” he spat accusingly.

~OOO~

Lillian quickly recounted the evenings events.

“So you see, I’m really to blame. I convinced Godric to go in there.”

“Scenting yourself on him – that was smart thinking on your part.”

He paused, noticing Lillian’s notebook. She’d written down three words and connected them with lines:

Fear –– Selfishness –– Sacrifice = ?

“I haven’t the slightest idea what that woman meant. Tarot functions as a meditative device. I suppose it is a useful exercise insofar as it prompts you to reflect on your problems in a structured way. I mean, she raised good questions, even if they were absurdly vague.”

Eric set the little book back down. “I need to think. I’ll be back shortly.” Lillian motioned to stop him, but his demeanor told her not to push her luck.

“Great. Two down, one to go. While I’m at it, anything I can say or do to piss  _you_  off, Pam?”

Pam snorted and went to her bedroom, leaving Lily alone to ponder how complicated her life had become.


	16. Hunger Games

The maker’s call brought Eric instinctively to the condo’s rooftop. He found Godric looking out over the city’s skyline. He had indeed fed, judging by the slight flush in his cheeks.

“Godric…”

He turned to his progeny, his face full of sorrow. “In all of our years, my son, even in the worst of our arguments…Never has another come between us.”

Eric was taken aback. Were they fighting now? He felt the oddest sensations coming through their bond. “And no one ever shall, master. Tell me what you want. You know I will do anything. All that I am is yours.”

“And I yours, until the very end. I have never doubted you.” Godric kicked at a stray pebble, sending it flying over the edge of the roof.

“Then, what? What’s wrong?”

The shorter vampire shoved his hands into his pockets. Night sounds of the traffic below blended with the chirping songs of creatures hidden in the greenery lining the streets.

“Everything about her is bewitching,” he said finally. “Look at us breaking our own rules without thinking twice…just to please her. I acted foolishly tonight. Turning my back for even an instant was a grave mistake. All because I wished to see her smile. A smile, Eric! Instead I risked her life.”

“I will take her to the Öland house, far from any of our kind. In a month the blood bond will be gone and we’ll send her back to Boston and forget her.”

“You know you don’t mean that. You don’t want that, nor do I. Besides, we need her, Eric. I doubt we’re going to find a vampire more ancient than Marduk willing to help us in time. We’ll never be able to simply strongarm him and weres are not an enemy to be underestimated. Lillian might be the most powerful ally we have.”

He paused, not entirely sure he wanted to utter the next words.

“I know how to open her oracular vision. The witch told me.”

“Gods, why didn’t you just say so?!”

“Because it isn’t that simple.”

Eric felt a swirl of Godric’s emotions shatter across him in a million ricocheting stings. He was full of anguish and concern.

“Did not her gift truly manifest after your first bonding?”

“Yes…”

“And after the second?”

“It…..strengthened…oh…” His mouth actually gaped in shock for a split second. “I’ve had my head up my ass.”

“Yeah.”

“But our next exchange may very well make the bond permanent…”

“You see the problem now?”

Eric groaned. “Fucking hell.” He ran a hand over his mouth. “There’s no time to wait for my bond with her to dissipate.”

“Exactly. Either you seal your fate with hers or it comes down to me. I know you too well to think you’d allow anyone else. But her reaction to the blood…” he trailed off, frowning. “It has been so unpredictable there’s no telling how it will affect her.” He clapped Eric to his chest then and held him tightly. “Or what it will do to us.”

They’d never had their blood coursing through the same human simultaneously, and certainly not one who could manipulate those bonds of her own accord. It was virtually unheard of for a maker of his age not to have several, even many, progeny to dilute and weaken the strength of the maker’s bond. On the contrary, Godric and Eric had been strengthening it beyond measure over the ages. The thought of having someone now mucking about in their connection after so long was beyond chilling. It was terrifying.

“I have always been selfish when it comes to you. I could say I regret it, but I don’t.”

“We can run. All four of us…” Eric suggested rather desperately.

“When have you ever backed down from a fight?”

Of course he was right. Eric considered his maker’s words carefully before speaking again.

“You’d really be willing to?”

Godric nodded against his chest. “Only if she wants it. It must be her decision…and ours.”

Eric sucked in a ragged breath. “Then we’ll be fine,” he said confidently. He rested his cheek on top of his maker’s head. “I wanted you to know her the moment I knew for certain that she’d have me. It was so strong and natural an impulse. I think that must be when I woke you from your day sleep.”

“Amazing that life can still throw us such curveballs after so long. You’ve never been in love with a human before.”

Eric laughed ironically. “I know.”

“I haven’t either. Or at least, he didn’t stay human for very long.”

Eric broke out into the most innocent, boyish of smiles. Godric rarely saw them, but they were one of his most cherished possessions, if a smile was something you could keep. Few other things reminded him so strongly of the divinity immanent in all things. Few things made living these eternal nights worthwhile.

“Eirikr.” A red film misted over his eyes. “You are the greatest of gifts.”

Eric pulled his maker to him and cut his tongue on his own fang. They’d long ago abandoned words, which quickly became too flimsy and hollow to capture centuries of mutual love and respect. Godric accepted the tender offering and gave his own blood in exchange. The brief kiss was deeply intimate and entirely chaste –an expression of the purest reverence and devotion.

“So,” the blond vampire broke the solemnity of the moment. “Are you going to break it to her or am I? You know she’ll be a pain in the ass about it.”

“Without a doubt,” Godric replied with a smile.

~OOO~

Downstairs, Lillian vegged out on the couch, drawing mindless doodles in the margin of her notebook.

A breaking news bulletin caught her attention.

_“We come to you now with breaking news. Jennifer, what can you tell us about the events taking place in St. Bernard?”_

_“Bob, I’m here reporting to you live from St. Bernard, where an undetermined number of people have been attacked by a wild animal. Police haven’t given any official numbers yet, but local witnesses say that at least 4 people may have been severely injured or killed. It is unclear at this time whether we are dealing with a bear, puma, or bobcat, but reports from the scene indicate that it is fairly large, erratic, and possibly rabid. Police are cautioning locals to stay inside, as this situation is still ongoing until the animal can be contained. It’s a good idea to keep pets indoors as well until we know more. They are also reminding you to dial 911 if you see anything out of the ordinary.”_

“Pam….” Lillian rose to her feet, her voice shaky. “Pam! Get in here!”

“What?” She came out of the bedroom in a pink silk robe, her hair in curlers. “What is  _sooo_  important to interrupt my spa time? You are seriously fucking up my zen…”

Lillian just pointed dumbly at the tv, her mouth hanging open.

_“Here with me tonight is eyewitness Travis Tilly. Travis, what can you tell us about what you saw here tonight?”_

_“Okay, well, my buddy Dan and I wuz cleanin’ crawdaddies in the yard and we saw this thing come up from the riverbank. I grabbed Dan and wuz like, what is that thing, man? And it come right up at us and dang if it didn’t look like some kinda ork.”_

_“An ork, Travis? Sorry, could you clarify for our viewers what you mean?”_

_“Like one of them things from that Lord’a the Rings movie, man. Greasy and wet and all teeth and claws! It was a god dang monster, I’m telling you! It come straight up on the dock and jumped on Dan an then…then…”_

_“It’s alright Travis, take your time.”_

_“Sorry….I’m real shook up. It come up an’ ate him, ma’am. So help me God, it did. I couldn’t do nuthin’. I was so scared. I don’t even know if there’s enough left of him to bury…”_

_“Well folks, you heard it first here on WGNO. This is Jennifer Banks reporting to you live. Bob, back to you in the studio.”_

“Holy fucking shit.”

“It could just be a rabid animal.”

“You know it isn’t. It’s him, Pam.”

“Oh my god,” she whispered breathlessly. “He’s going to out us all.” Instinctively, she wrapped an arm around her human friend.

The men came through the door just then, playfully bantering and laughing. Their reparté stopped dead in its tracks the moment they looked up and saw Pam and Lillian’s faces.

“Whatthefuckisit?” Eric said in a single rush.

“Marduk’s on a rampage just southeast of the city. He’s ripping humans left and right,” Pam cried.

“No, surely…”

“Look!”

They stood silently before the television as the news show replayed their reportage. Eric reached for the remote and switched the channel over to CNN. The story had already been picked up nationally.

“Okay, so what do we do?” Lillian pressed. “What have you done before when somebody goes off the rails? This has happened, right?”

“We let the world burn,” Godric said distantly.

Eric chimed in. “But back then there wasn’t a fucking 24 hour news cycle and scores of digital devices to capture it all on tape. One way or another someone’s going to get video or a picture.” His phone starting buzzing in his pocket.

“What?” he barked. “Put her through. Sophie? We just saw it…What?…Yes, it’s true that Godric is here…Well, he isn’t technically  _in_  my territory so I’m still acting regent, unless you’d  _rather_  figure this shit out with  _him_  and  _I’ll_  happily take a paid vacation…Oh yeah?…You tell that motherfucker Compton I’ll string his guts on my Yuletide tree and display it in my front yard!…” he paced down the hall.

Godric took Lillian’s hand. “Come, child. We need to talk.”

He led her into the bedroom and quietly shut the door.

“Are you still angry with me?”

“What? No, I wasn’t ever angry with you. Have a seat.”

She sat on the bed and pulled a plush pillow protectively across her lap. “Am I in trouble? I feel like I’m getting called in to the principal’s office.”

Godric laughed softly. “Nothing like that. I want to speak with you about the nature of vampires. There are some things you need to know.”

“Okay…” she said with some temerity. She really wasn’t sure where this was about to go.

“You have exchanged blood twice now with Eric.”

He had her attention now. “Is that okay? It isn’t interfering with you all? I mean, what you said tonight about trying to deal with my unwelcome presence in your ties…”

“It’s unexpected, not unwelcome. Just let me speak.”

“Sorry. Go on.”

“A third, sometimes fourth, simultaneous exchange – it depends on the age of the vampire and the amount each party takes – this seals the blood bond. It’s as if your souls become laminated… permanently. You understand permanence is a serious word for a vampire.”

“Yes, I understand the concept of it. It’s hard to imagine the scale of eternity, but I get it.”

“You two must proceed carefully from here on out. A full blood bond should only ever be done by mutual choice.”

A long silence passed. “But…when the human dies…”

“I have not experienced it myself. I hear it is not quite as devastating as losing one’s progeny. Though because there are only the three of us in this family’s bloodline, we would all bear the brunt of it.”

A long silence passed.

“I can barely remember my human grief. Is it not like a weight on your soul?”

“Yes. That’s a good way to describe it. Like you could drown in sadness.”

“When you lose someone in the blood, it is different. When you’ve bonded with Eric, you probably saw his thoughts and memories. Maybe you felt him inside as if he were you or perhaps you lost yourself in him. Maybe both at the same time.”

“Yes, the latter,” she murmured.

“Among vampire kin, it is sort of like that all the time – always there at the back of our consciousness, so natural that it is part of you. Except, for my dynasty, it’s that way…times a million. A death in our bloodline wouldn’t be like a yolk around the soul, Lily. It would be like someone punched a hole straight through it. It’s an emptiness that never goes away.”

“That’s monstrous!”

He chose his next words with care.

“You may ask Pam or Eric if you like. They see my maker’s absence as a black void enveloping us all. Just imagine what that might be if I had actually cared for him.”

A tear escaped Lillian’s eye and rolled fatly down her cheek.

Godric caught the sparkling liquid on his fingertip and stared at it in fascination. His brow furrowed and he wiped the droplet away on his knee.

“You understand…my life is forfeit the day Eric dies. Eric on the other hand, he might survive my loss. He just might. But it would be the single most devastating thing that could happen to him, at least for the foreseeable future. I…I hate even breathing these words into existence.”

Lillian pressed her fingers against his mouth, silencing him. Her hands were shaking. More tears streamed down her face. Godric pulled her hands away and shook his head bitterly.

“I’ve been reckless. I never consciously decided not to make more fledglings. I just…I couldn’t in all faith believe I could do any better. So here we are.”

She sniffed hard to break the congestion gathering in her head. “I promise,” she looked him straight in his sea-colored eyes. “I won’t do that to you.”

“That’s not why I tell you this now – to extract promises from you. Anyhow, don’t make promises you might not want to keep. You need to know the facts. To bond fully would likely be a profoundly fulfilling experience for you both. However, I’ve mostly known vampires to do this when they choose to live one final lifetime, since the grief makes going into the sun easy. In other cases the vampire bonds in haste or foolishness and is faced with the haphazard decision of letting the person die or turning them. That can go any number of ways. A maker is not the same as a lover – there’s a power inequality fundamental to the relationship that cannot be changed. Ever. Not everyone is willing to accept this asymmetry. It’s why Pam doesn’t have sex with Eric, little dominatrix that she is. We’ve also noticed increasingly that many baby vampires now fight their makers tooth and nail, thinking they are automatically entitled to total freedom and don’t need someone to depend upon. I can’t tell you how often I’ve been called in to straighten out such younglings.”

He sighed. “So these are the realities Eric must grapple with should you two choose that path.”

“Jesus christ, Godric. Why are you telling me this now?”

He took another deep, unnecessary breath.

“Because it’s Eric’s blood that is developing your prescience. It didn’t just open the gift, it’s  _feeding_  it.”

The air hitched in her throat.

“How is it that you both were so fully in denial about this?!”

“It all happened so fast.”

“I won’t lie to you. The gift of prophecy could determine how the coming events unfold. We’re doing our best to figure out how to capture and contain Marduk, but the plan is still weak. You could be a powerful weapon in our arsenal. But that’s only one consideration out of a great many.”

“What else, then?”

“There are political advantages as well – the whole ‘official asset’ thing we spoke of. You’ll be recognized for your supernatural abilities. You’ll be protected, revered, cherished.”

“Let me see if I have this straight. I can permanently bond with Eric and become some sort of crazy prophetess, which may well turn the tide of your shit vampire war and make me safer in the long run.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not exactly the career I’d envisioned,” she huffed sarcastically.

“But going down that road means giving up the life I anticipated, and when I die it will probably break Eric, likely sending him, and consequently his entire family, to an unnatural, disastrous end.”

Godric shrugged. “That’s the long and short of it.”

“You should have paid the witch more.”

Godric howled in laughter.

Lillian backed off the bed and went to the mirror over the armoire. She stared at herself for a long, hard minute. Then turning back to him, she declared resolutely, “That witch spoke to me about the balance between selfishness and sacrifice. That’s the line right there. I can’t take on the responsibility of your entire family and their fates. I cannot allow it. Not now and definitely not just because we’re in the shit. We’ll just have to figure out another way to get a handle on this psychic thing and in the meantime hope to hell we find a better plan.”

Godric shifted his weight awkwardly and bit the inside of his cheek. He lowered his eyes, his long dark lashes shading his gaze from her.

“You could always take another vampire’s blood.”

“Yeah right,” she snorted indignantly. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say that Eric would  _not_  be on board for that.

“Are you so certain?”

“He doesn’t share.”

“He does with me,” Godric said in a near inaudible whisper. Then after a beat, he met her look dead on, adding, “And so do you.”

Lillian fell quiet, her cheeks flaming red. Under normal circumstances, she was an extremely private person. She was more than embarrassed at how unexpectedly sensual it had been to have Godric watch and sorta kinda be part of their second blood bonding. But it was more like Eric’s excitement fed through her own, magnifying everything quite literally out of human proportions. She knew in her head that it was all done in loving intimacy, but still, it pushed at her boundaries in ways she hadn’t had time to digest.

“You are uncomfortable with the idea,” he said after her long silence.

She did something then that shocked even her. She went to the edge of the bed and slapped him as hard as she could across his stony face.

“How dare you!” she hissed and stormed out of the room.

“Eric, your maker has lost his fucking mind!” she bellowed down the hallway.

“Hold on,” he hit the mute button and pressed his cellphone against his shoulder as an extra precaution. Godric materialized silently behind Lillian.

“I take it she took it about as expected?” Eric asked him over her shoulder.

“What!? You already know about this?!” She stared at Eric, dumbstruck.

“Lillian, if you didn’t notice,” he said with a forced patience, “I’m on the phone with the queen regent of New Orleans trying to save all of America from a vampire hellbent on making Jack the Ripper look like a fucking kiddie bedtime story. To boot, we’re now hearing of several vampires that have gone missing and are presumed dead in Greysolon’s territory with implications of werewolf involvement. Were I free, I would be sitting in there talking it over with you myself. Kindly  _calm down_ and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Great. Perfect! Well. Glad we’ve certainly gotten this started off on the right foot. Fucking conniving bloodsuckers!” she screamed.

“C’mon. Please, Lily,” Godric led her away. She was flushed and hot with anger. And pain. The throbbing in her hand was excruciating. She couldn’t hide her wince.

“Silly woman. You put two hairline fractures in your hand pulling that stunt. I heard the little bones split.”

Suddenly it all became too much. She couldn’t hold the dam against her emotions any longer. She broke into ragged, undignified sobs.

“Shhh.” He enveloped her in his arms and stroked her hair. “Shh. It’s okay.”

“I…I haven’t even called my family in a month! I have a life back home…an apartment, a job, friends!”

“And there’s nothing to keep you from returning to that if you wish. Eric’s already suggested that you two could hide out in a little cabin we have on the Baltic Sea. It’s not too far from where we first met, actually. You can wait until the blood bond dissipates and then it will be more or less safe for you to go home.”

“God you are all so fucking manipulative! You say that but you bait it with all these fascinating mysteries that you know only draw me in further. You dangle the secrets of history before me and tell me to act casual.”

“I am not manipulating you in any way. I’m telling you every option available to you. If I took a roundabout way to suggest that you use my blood to strengthen your foresight, it was only to make clear what was at stake in the alternative.”

She slumped over, feeling defeated. “Let’s just all run away. Fuck this stupid war and fuck Marduk.”

Godric laughed heartily. “That’s exactly what my progeny said not an hour ago. It’s not possible, darling. Especially not now. Between Marduk risking exposing us, werewolves picking a fight, and half of Sophie-Anne’s court already hearing about you via that shitrat Compton…Well…We can hide you away while we fight, but my family must stand our ground. Eric was right: it was only a matter of time before you were detected by our kind. I honestly can’t believe you hadn’t been noticed before, even without having vampire scents all over you. You either are incredibly lucky or don’t go out after sundown.”

“Is it that…good?”

He gave a conciliatory smile. “It’s that good.”

“Blerg,” she moaned and collapsed in exhaustion on the bed. “Is this just some twisty, sick way of you both getting a dip in my veins?”

“Hardly. You know we could easily take whatever we wanted from you if taking was our aim.”

“Ugh. I know you’re right.”

“Do you want medicine for the hand? It’s got to be painful.”

“I ought to slap you with the other just to even things up,” she retorted, half hiding a smile before giving in and rifling through her purse for a bottle of Advil.

Godric sat cross-legged at her side, unmoving, while Lillian rested and waited for the pain to ease.

Out of the blue, she spoke again. “I am afraid that I’ll see something horrid in the future and be unable to change it. Or else that someone will get a hold of me in order to exploit this gift, if it actually ever manifests fully.”

“Isn’t that what any of us fears? Powerless in the face of change and at the hands of others?”

“I guess. It’s a little more of an immediate concern in my case.”

“We will protect you no matter what. Of that you can be sure.”

Eric peeked around the door. “Is it safe to enter or do I risk the valkyrie’s fearsome right hook?”

Lillian let out a much needed laugh. Eric strolled in casually, losing his shirt and pants along the way. Apparently he hadn’t seen the utility in wearing underwear this evening. Only a man with a body sculpted like a god could swagger so confidently in his nudity. He slid under the covers and beckoned his love to crawl under. She obliged.

He held her close, enjoying the rise and fall of her breathing against his chest. “I love you, Lillian.” She squeezed him tightly. “Take time to think about it. It’s your choice. We will respect whatever decision you make.”

“Oh thanks. Don’t put any pressure on  _me_  or anything!”

“I mean it earnestly.”

“I guess I should be relieved you didn’t just slip his blood in my drink or something.”

Godric took offense. “And have your burning resentment and hatred splattering all over my mind, filling me with self-loathing and undermining my confidence? Sending Eric flying off the handle at me over every little thing because you were feeding even the smallest impulse he might have to become annoyed with me? I’m not a masochist!”

“That’s just it! This complicates everything unnecessarily! And what if it changes how I feel?”

“The blood doesn’t make you feel things,  _min Lila_. It only amplifies your emotions.”

“But that’s not true. I hadn’t known Godric for more than a few hours before I felt the influence of your bond with him pushing me toward him like he was  _my_ maker. It went against everything I knew in my head was right.”

“You must have already been predisposed to want to please him.”

“I always want to make everybody happy! Arg! I feel like you’re passing me off onto him because you want me draw you a god damned battle plan!”

“ _NEVER_ ,” Eric said, his voice thick with passion.

“What will happen to our blood bond?” she cried desperately. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I don’t want to lose you either. It won’t cancel our bond, if that’s your worry. But the hard truth of it is that we don’t really know what will happen.”

“Look, have you ever…Okay, don’t laugh at me. Have you ever seen the movie Ghostbusters?”

“Huh? Yes…I liked the chamber full of nasty ghosties.”

“Hah, of course you did. Remember when they say under no circumstances do you cross the streams from the proton packs?”

“Yeah.”

“And in the end that’s exactly what they end up doing?”

“Go on.”

“What if that’s what happens? Your magic comes from him and I’m tied to you, but then I get tied to him and the lines get all mangled, sending everything straight to hell?”

“That’s one way of stating it. You are, incidently, the biggest nerd I have met.”

“Thank you.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “How big of a concern is it, Eric? Don’t b.s. me.”

He shrugged. “You’ll be mixed up in the middle of our bond. What that means is anyone’s guess – there’s never been anything mediating our tie. Pam is downstream of us, if you will. My sincerest hope is that Godric and I will just enjoy our connection all the more that we get to share it with and through you. I hope that it is new and exhilarating. But if we start to argue, fight…if one of us is injured…it could be a very, very bad month before the bond with him weakens. We can’t know the lasting effects for master and I, but that is our concern and we’ve already made our decision.”

“How do we know that me taking more blood will work? What if I’m a dud and nothing happens?”

“Do  _you_ believe that’s what will happen?”

“No…” she replied sheepishly.

“Mmhmm.”

Lillian contemplated the situation.

“Who are you at your worst, Eric?”

He was taken aback. “That’s a very clever question of you to ask.”

“If we’re going to be stuck with each other, I need to know how to keep the peace.”

Eric thought about it, but it was Godric that answered.

“Eric’s temper is legendary when crossed. He is vicious. Unrelenting. Beyond expert at burying his emotions. Master manipulator – he’s the one you should worry about on that front, by the way, not me. He will happily punish himself as much or even more than his enemy if it means achieving his revenge or proving his point. He may have invented the word ‘overkill.'”

“Yeah, well. I learned from the best,” he retorted happily, wholly unashamed of this characterization.

“I think you left out ‘high-handed’. And you, Godric?” she pushed, determined to hear the truth.

Eric didn’t hesitate to draw his picture. “He can be cruel in ways the world has long forgotten. He exercises fanatical restraint, but unleashed…well. For centuries he was known simply as Death. He surpasses even me at being heartless if it’s his will. Few ever garner his notice and even fewer earn his respect.”

“So all in all, a couple of real gems? Good lord.” They laughed, breaking the tension looming heavy in the air.

“But,” Godric countered, “Eric is intensely fair, egalitarian even. Notoriously even-handed, methodical, and cautious. Loyalty comes second-nature to him for those who inspire it. His enemies’ hatred is almost always fueled by the secret desire to either possess him or be him, sometimes both at once. Underneath it all, at his core he is as steadfast and true a man as I will ever know.”

“I forgot to mention how my master wields flattery like a blunt instrument.” Eric gave a sly grin. If he’d had a pulse he would have blushed like a schoolboy. “But, in truth…Godric is the most enlightened creature  _I_  have ever known. He may have been those things before, but he has made an art out of mutation. He has evolved so much that I sometimes wonder whether he is still entirely vampire or if he hasn’t become something more.”

“Know thyself,” she murmured to herself. Godric raised his eyebrows. This was the Delphic oracle’s maxim carved into the lintel of her temple.

“I haven’t had the centuries to explore my darkest impulses as you two have. But I know I am often spiteful about injustice, which probably comes off as being petty. I despise rudeness. I’m uncooperative when I’m convinced I’m right; fiercely independent to the point of being a loner. I know how to hold a grudge and I take pleasure in seeing mean-spirited people get their comeuppance.”

Eric kissed the top of her head. “The things you see as faults in yourself are found in everyone. You, Lillian, are pure of heart. You are brilliant, intoxicatingly beautiful, innovative, witty, and seriously fierce.”

Godric cut in. “I have already told you what I think. Compassion, empathy, and love, Lily. These are your gifts to us. In them our humanity is redeemed.”

~OOO~

She woke startled, feeling as though she was being watched. She wasn’t. The bedside clock read 5:13pm. The summer sun wouldn’t fully set for several more hours and Godric and Eric were dead asleep. She had slept in her clothes, her dreams a snarl of their confessions and fears – a long and tense conversation.

After fumbling with the coffee pot, she brought a steaming mug of caffeine out to the balcony and watched the sun slowly dip into the horizon.

 _The daily dance of the cosmos_ , she thought. Imagine seeing a thousand years of this same remarkable movement. Or two thousand. One could understand it abstractly. But to truly comprehend it? No.

There are a few rare times in life where you stand before the bend of your own fate knowing whatever choice you make will be irrevocable. More often than not we stupidly run by these moments blindly hurtling ourselves towards the next and the new. It is the drunk that shrugs and gets in his car, the angry words yelled as a loved one walks out the door, the rage that uncoils in a fist. Then there are moments such as these where the very breath of time hitches before the deed: the hesitation of the pen over the marriage license, willing a nod of the head to the doctor waiting to silence the machines. Do we appreciate the instances where consciousness rules? We cannot know how our actions will reverberate through our little worlds. If we pause, it is only to stare down our profound ignorance of the future in resentment and desperate optimism alike. We hope much of what we do has an out, an alternative, a happy ending. But really every day is a flailing leap into the unknown. We hope that our failures and our stupidities and our best of intentions gone terribly wrong aren’t beyond the pale of the retrievable – that we can salvage something worthwhile in our lives, reconcile the jagged pieces in the wreckages of our own making, and forge ahead.

What Lillian contemplated now was the decision to transform herself permanently, and in doing so, give up this most wonderfully human of inadequacies. If the blood worked as it should, she might never again feel this uncertainty, this exhilarating sense of risk and adventure in the unknown. To see into the future meant a life of nothing but finalities. Or at least she supposed that’s how it would seem. Maybe every second is another chance to change the course of events. That wasn’t so inhuman after all.

She sat staring down her own crossroads in the flushed orange and pink cotton hues of setting sun. She could run. She could run as she’d failed to do from the beginning. Back in the comfort of her university she could publish her research – a book about people searching for magic in their lives, a topic driven by her own hope that there might be something more to it all. Perhaps she would meet someone else and have a few kids before it was too late. She could garden in the summer sun and spend lazy days playing with her little ones seaside. It wouldn’t be a bad life. It had always seemed like more than enough to be so blessed.

But would she stay up late in the twilight of her days hoping against hope that some shadowy movement in the night was more than the tired filaments of her addled imagination? Would her soul ache to see a tall stranger step out of the darkness, run a hand through his golden locks, and flash her a rakish smile? Perhaps he would even be charitable enough to ignore her withered frame and make love to her one last time before the earth reclaimed her.

Hot tears streaked down Lillian’s cheeks.

Could she live a life colored by the knowledge of what she’d given up? She already knew she wasn’t brave enough to ask them to glamour it away. Lillian tried to imagine all the ways entering into a dual blood bond might go catastrophically wrong in the space of the month. She was so in love with Eric and he was everything, everything she’d secretly desired. Conversely, it seemed hard to mourn for a husband and children she didn’t yet have, a life that hadn’t panned out that way so far in spite of her attempts. Would she rather live a short life to its fullest, or a long life not fully ventured?

It suddenly didn’t seem like much of a debate.


	17. Hunger Games - Part Two

One of the benefits of having an undead boyfriend, if you weren’t aware, is that you can blast music, blow dry your hair, and generally make a hellacious racket while he sleeps – all without generating a single complaint. Lillian took advantage of the remaining daylight to quickly shower and primp in the swanky master bathroom before the sleeping vampires across the room awoke for the evening.

Watching Eric open his eyes and smile first thing each evening, usually bare-bummed and hair rumpled, had quickly become one of her favorite hobbies. It fascinated her to no end how vampires suddenly flipped on. One second they were dead and the next there they were, ready as ever. Humans are crinkly-eyed and ill-adjusted to the light. Our first instinct is to suck in a deep breath of air, just as if we were being reborn all over again. We wake and our temperature skyrockets along with our heart rate, sending chemicals zipping out in every direction to call our cells to order.

Tonight, however, Lillian decided to forgo her little ritual. She wanted to let the two vampires have a moment to themselves – it was going to be the last peace and quiet they would share together for a while. Certain that the door was secured against the sun, she took a glass of iced-tea out to the balcony with a book. They could come to her when they were ready.

The sun was well below the horizon but the sky was still a twisting tie-dye full of deep indigos and cobalt blues. She’d come to a new appreciation of sunsets and sunrises over the last two months. Every wisp and shade betrayed critical secrets about the hour at hand. Not time that played off a clock, but rather that which struck at the heart of a vampire’s powers and limitations. She knew now, for instance, that Godric would have long ago risen as the sky grew heady and flushed with a dusty orange. Eric could, with enough effort, force himself up then as well. But he preferred to rise when, on clear nights, the sky and earth met in a fiery, crimson blaze. This moment’s equal came on overcast evenings when low hanging, billowy sheets of cloud trapped the last threads of light and painted the world over in a smoldering violet and rosehip speckled haze. Of course neither had been able to enjoy these daily dramas until the very recent invention of thick UV-proof glass. Young Pam would only just be waking when at last the twinkling velvet curtain of night passed overhead. That was also Lillian’s cue to come inside and lock out the other creatures of the night, lest her singular fragrance draw unwanted attention.

Barefoot and draped in a long navy maxi dress, Lillian found something in the fridge and settled in the small dining area. That vampires would go through the trouble of outfitting a dining nook with a table, chairs, and candle centerpiece but not think to stock up on plates or silverware for authenticity’s sake was both typical and pretty funny. Thankfully Eric was ever mindful of her human needs and saw that such omissions in his living arrangements were immediately rectified. Godric’s obsessive fascination with human food lately – an endeavor which culminated in his smash sensation of a restaurant in Lunsen, Sweden – similarly came in handy. Since he’d shown up that night a month ago, he had fallen into the habit of piecing together little miraculous meals and setting them aside in the fridge for her. When he found time to do this was somewhat of a mystery given the political chaos they reigned first and foremost in their lives. His dishes somehow always managed to be casual masterpieces. They were plates you knew took extreme thought and culinary precision by the extraordinary nuance in their flavors, but that never came across as fussy or overly manipulated while you ate them. She never felt like she was destroying half of the art just by stabbing a fork into it. His idea of food, she thought, had the air of someone strolling aimlessly about picking wild edibles and deciding to tumble them together and make a meal out of earth’s easy bounty. Indeed, he often used fresh plants and fruits in entirely peculiar ways. Fairly mundane compared to his usual standards (the grocer’s delivery service here left something to be desired she supposed), tonight’s mini showpiece sported delicately folded petals of beef carpaccio topped with fresh lavender and a buttery pepper sauce pooled in the base. Mid-bite Lillian realized that she was quite hungry, so she dug out another square dish from the fridge. This one qualified as “salad”: an array of herb fronds and microgreens, almost none of which she could identify, garnished with strawberry slices, pomegranate seeds, toasted hazelnuts, and a spare sprinkling of goat cheese.

Eric wandered out of the bedroom (clothed, surprisingly) and wrapped his long arms around her.

“Good evening my beautiful lover.” He inhaled deeply over her shoulder. “Gods that smells amazing.”

“I always assumed human food was unpleasant for you.”

He buried his nose in her hair. “It’s just like…vampire cologne!”

“You’re bizarre!”

“No I’m not.” He laughed heartily. “Surely you realize how Godric cooks, don’t you!?”

“Let me guess. Witchcraft? No, wait. Elves!”

“Elves?! Wherever do you get these ideas? Elves are  _horrid_  creatures, Lila. No…” Eric beamed in pride, “He pairs the human to the dishes like you would wine to a meal.”

Her jaw fell open. In other words, scratch everything she’d just been thinking about innocent walks in fertile meadows and whatnot.

“Your scent and your taste, it’s all highlighted by the aromas and flavors of the food and how they subtly refine the quality of your blood. The real artistry in it, though, is getting the latter right  _and_ achieving a delectable meal for the person. It’s so brilliant that the Danes offered, begged really, to make him high lord over the entire country if only he would share his talents with our kind there. Naturally he refused.”

“Oh sure, naturally,” she quipped. Her temper began to flare. “So all this time I could have been hitting up the city’s nightlife if only I’d been scarfing down burgers and cheap beer?!”

“Don’t be silly. Of course not. Your unique, mouth-watering perfume combined by the powerfully arousing fact that you smell like a certain devastatingly gorgeous Viking vampire…no one could miss that! Just incidentally, that same Viking would like to mark every inch of your body with his aforementioned scent…”

He began kissing down the side of her cheek and neck. His broad hands started to roam and she gave an involuntary moan.

“Well, glad to know at least Godric will finally get to reap the benefits of his efforts to transform me into vamper crack.”

He froze for a fraction of a second. “Then you have decided?” He tried to not to sound too excited. Or anxious. He wasn’t sure which.

“Yeah, I have.” She reached up to run a tender hand through his hair.

“Hey, Goh, shall we convene?” he called to his maker unselfconsciously. Lillian smiled, completely charmed at this little nickname he’d never uttered before in her presence.

“You are adorable, Eric Northman.”

“Hmm?”

“So damn cute.”

“I am not cute, Lila. I am a fearsome Viking warrior prince who strikes terror in the hearts of his enemies.”

“Yeah, yeah, all that. But you’re still a darned cute one.”

“Woman, you are hellbent on ruining my good reputation.”

“I’m only hellbent on spoiling you for as long as I possibly can.”

He purred and kissed her again, hoping she meant it.

“Sorry for the delay. My voicemail is crammed with messages. How are we tonight?”

“Wonderful, although it would have been nice to have been  _forewarned_  about your little cooking trick, you big creep.”

He didn’t react.

“Seriously, Godric. It’s creepy!”

He shrugged. “It is meant as a compliment. Plus, it is a win-win situation for all – the middle course of action leading all parties to a happy conclusion. Speaking of which, I think you wanted to tell us your position on other matters.”

She shook her head. “Are you all such sly politicians?”

He gave a sidelong smile and took a seat opposite to Eric.

“It’s simple enough. Ultimately, it was an easy decision. I’m sorry if I made it overly difficult last night. I want to try to pop this psychic thing open with Godric’s additional help. If it’s my gift, I want to claim it. If I don’t, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

She sat at the head of the table, the two vampires listening intently. Suddenly the witch’s words came back to her and she smiled realizing their hidden irony: she had to master her ‘demons.’

She took their hands into hers. “If we do this, we are all going to stick together. We’re going to be patient and forgiving of each other since we know this is uncharted territory for all of us. And by god if we aren’t going to take down every last one of these freaks that threaten us and ours.”

Eric literally fell on her and began kissing her voraciously, fisting his hands through what was until then her nicely done up hair.

“My valkyrie, my shield maiden! Gods, when you speak like that…”

She kissed him repeatedly, all the while pushing him back into his chair.

“Eric, I take it that means you are in agreement. Godric, you still on board?”

He nodded.

“Okay. So, um, how should we do this…” Her heart rate jumped nervously and she knew the two heard it.

In a blur Godric was at Eric’s side, whispering rapidly into his ear, too low for human ears. He squeezed his shoulders and gave him a slap on the bicep before strolling calmly to the bedroom. Eric got up and motioned for her to follow.

“Eric, I love you so very, very much. You know that, right?”

“I do. And I love you too, my heart.”

~OOO~

Lillian was surprised to find the room lit by the dancing light from a dozen candles. She smelled the familiar aroma of Godric’s handblended bath oil. The man in question looked about with a forlorn expression. “I lament that we must do this here, like this.”

“Master is a bit traditional when it comes to the blood, you see.” Eric stood behind her and rubbed the sides of her arms in an attempt to calm her. Her pulse fluttered dangerously fast.

“ _För att göra det bra, vi borde åtminstone_   _vara på Trädkojan och inte i det här skithĺl,_ ” Godric grumbled. [To do this well we should at least be at the Treehouse and not in this shithole.]

“ _Nästa gång…_ ” Eric murmured. [Next time…]

Godric gathered Lillian’s hands in his, careful not to squeeze the massive bruises on her right one. “I haven’t offered my blood to a human in a very, very long time, Lillian.”

She searched for the right words. “I am honored by your gift, Godric, and I offer you my own in exchange.”

He kissed her knuckles lightly and let go of her. With one arm, he pulled the shirt off his back, revealing the darkly inked tattoos that stood in such contrast to the pearlescent white of his preternatural skin. At the side of the bed, he opened a long wooden box on the nightstand and withdrew a short dagger of exceptionally fine quality. The marbling in its narrow blade resembled Damascus steel, but it shimmered in an unnatural way, almost as if it were a trick of the light. The knife was topped by a twisting serpentine crossguard and a hilt which bore elaborate Celtic tracery.

Often times Godric had a way of making himself appear unassuming – he moved deliberately, avoided eye contact with others, and always placed himself in unobtrusive positions in a room. If there was any question as to whether this was an act meant to draw attention away from the enormity of his true power, any such confusion was now cleared up entirely. Even as he knelt casually on the edge of the bed in front of them, he radiated dominion and command over everything in his presence. Even Eric stood submissively.

“Come here.” Godric pulled Lillian close. His nostrils flared as he inhaled her scent in deeply. She felt his cool breath tickle her neck and she felt the cold point of a fang graze her jaw. She couldn’t help but eye the blade sitting next to him.

He rested his forehead against hers. “We trust each other,” he said softly, echoing his words from the night before last. She nodded. Slowly, he twirled her around so that she was pressed against his chest facing Eric.

Taking the blade in hand, he made a quick cut to his own wrist and offered it to his child, who bowed humbly and drank. She felt Godric shiver against her.

“Now,” Godric said in Lillian’s ear. “Feed your bonded. You are his as he is yours.” Eric went to her and nuzzled her face, exposing her neck. Kissing the spot just next to her pulse point, he bit gently, the sting quickly displaced by his cool lips. He didn’t draw at the wound, but rather let her pulse gently coat his tongue. He half moaned, half growled at the taste of her, and then released her far too soon. Neither act was meant to sate his thirst, but rather dampen his possessive instincts. It wouldn’t do to have him get snappish while they were establishing the new bond.

Godric turned her back towards him and pulled her onto the bed so that she was sitting on her ankles in front of him.

“Lillian, this is no average dagger. It was forged in fae fires and is possessed of very potent magic. The bonds we enter in tonight shall be made and recorded through this.”

 _Don’t move_ , he pushed at her. As he brought the knife to her neck, every fiber of her being wanted to flinch, but his mental suggestion – not quite a compulsion – willed her into place.

Very, very slowly he scraped the edge of the blade against her neck where Eric’s unsealed bite still seeped blood. To her astonishment, she watched as the crimson drops absorbed into the blade and disappeared.

In a quick motion he suddenly drew the blade across the side of his neck. His magic blood oozed thickly down his neck.

“Take me into you now, as I have taken you.” His words made her flush hotly and she licked her lips tentatively before lapping the stream off his collarbone and up to the cut. She sucked at it once, eliciting the most sensual of gasps from him. As she swallowed the first taste of his potent life force, the world fell out from underneath her and she arched her back in orgasmic ecstasy. She grabbed desperately at him before her body fell entirely slack. Godric held her head against his neck, lest she let go, and sank back into the thick down quilt.

 _Don’t stop. Take me_ , he whispered to her in thought.

She drew another long pull at his neck.

 _Bite me. Hard_! she pleaded back _._

He didn’t hesitate. He struck at her throat, driving his fangs in far deeper than necessary. She cried out in pleasure, burbling through the sweet nectar on her lips. The sound and taste of her sent him reeling in his own bliss. In that watershed moment a flood of their thoughts, images, and passions rushed out, setting the blood bond in place. Eric picked up the oathing dagger. He pulled the blade through the palm of his hand and tightened his fist over it, squeezing heavy drops of blood onto it. It was done. They were all three bonded by blood. Kissing the hilt, he tucked the knife back into its box.

~OOO~

For a seeming eternity they all three lay there in silence, arms and legs threaded together. The ties between them thrummed, crystal clear. Eric nosed the sensitive spot behind Lillian’s ear, breathing a prayer of thanks to the goddess Frigg for granting them safe passage through this test. Nothing felt out of place or disrupted. Remarkably, they all felt awash in a perfect calm and sense of completeness.

“I never knew that it could be like this,” she spoke quietly. “I feel like there is an invisible cord drawn through me connecting you two. I barely have words to describe it. It’s as if…as if there’s a new color in the world.”

Pam interrupted their reverie with a light rap on the door. “Eric, if you’re done playing maker-maker-booty-shaker in there, we  _do_ have business to attend to.”

Eric groaned. Forcing himself up, he hopped on top of Lillian and began covering her with a hundred furious, tickling kisses, jostling the whole bed raucously. “Muah! Muah! Muah!” he smooched loudly. “I’ll be back soon, lover!” His happiness vibrated through her. He lunged over and attacked his maker with an equally rowdy set of smooches. Godric shoved his face away, laughing. Bounding out the door, he swung Pam around in a circle and chomped playfully at her neck with a “Raararararh!” She managed to land a single good whack on him before he set her down and dashed off in a blur. She stood in the hallway, arms crossed, and shook her head in feigned annoyance, her smile barely hidden in a smirk.

Eric popped back and pointed at Lillian, “Don’t get too carried away while I’m gone!” He shifted his admonishing finger to Godric. “No fucking without me!” He grabbed his suit jacket off the dresser. “Call me when you hear from Montréal, Goh.” He blew them a kiss and bounced back down the hallway.

“C’mon Pammy, let’s go make war!”

“He’s like a kid on Christmas.”

“You have no idea.”

Lillian smiled. “He’s the best.”

“I know,” Godric replied, pulling her close. “How do you feel?”

She sighed. “I can finally relax around you. I always felt so off-kilter and tightly wound before – I don’t think whatever magic animates Eric’s blood was happy being walled off from you. It’s such a relief to feel balanced now.”

“We had hoped that would be the case.”

“Thank you, Godric. For risking so much and for being patient while I stumble over all my human hang-ups.”

“You make it easy.”

They lay there for the longest time simply staring at each other as though they were really seeing each other clearly for the first time. It was so strange that everything inside this package of a person she now felt reverberating in herself. Lillian let her fingertips wander lightly over him, committing to memory the sweep of his cheekbone, the peak of his adam’s apple, the thick veins crisscrossing his muscular arms, the lines of his hard abdomen, the downy curls of hair trailing towards his sex. Godric lay unmoving, allowing these little explorations of his body.

“Tell me, why did you pick that song the other night at the cafe?” she asked randomly.

“Tell me why you wanted me to bite you so hard?”

She blushed, smiling. He gazed back at her, her own blood in his system giving his cheeks a ruddy hue.

“You first,” she insisted.

He contemplated for a moment. “Because I want to always be honest with you…even when I cannot quite put words to it. What about you?”

She bit her bottom lip, then answered, “Most of the time you are so confident in your powers that you just sit calmly back and dare the world to make its move. I get that it is a practiced impassivity – that you’re not really so detached. I wanted to feel you take what you wanted. I wanted to know that after all the other considerations and motivations and political gains to be reaped, at least some small part of you really just wanted to have me for me.”

“Oh, Lily…Never doubt that!”

“Yeah?” she said.

“You only need look within yourself to know the truth of my words. There’s nothing we can hide from each other now. We  _are_ each other.”

She closed her eyes to focus on the warm stirring she felt in her breast.

“My bonded,” he whispered huskily, stroking her face. He inhaled her scent deeply and brushed his lips against hers. “Let me taste you…let me taste what I desire.”

The sensation of his mouth whispering over hers was too tempting. She parted her lips and let his cool tongue find hers. The shape and flavor of his kiss was different from Eric’s, though still delicious. Feeling the heat rise off her skin, he kissed her urgently, his tongue flicking and swirling over hers in the most suggestive manner. The movement caught her off guard and she suddenly felt herself ache and flutter in need.

“Careful there,” she admonished. She disentangled herself from him and sat up to fix her disheveled hair. He tucked a tattooed arm underneath his head and watched her with a smoldering gaze.

“It’s a wonder you all get anything done what with the effects of your blood!”

“I didn’t hear you complaining. Unless I misunderstood all that moaning…”

She turned beat red and looked away sheepishly.

“Is that…No!…Are you being coy with me?”

Shrugging noncommittally, she made a run for the door. Godric beat her to it – by a long shot. She ran right into him.

“I can practically taste the pheromones rolling off your skin. Your panties…”

“Don’t be crass!”

“ _Your panties_ ,” he said forcefully, “are soaked with the pleasure you’ve had from me.” He spun her around and pushed her against the wall, taking in the scent off her neck and jaw. “…and I haven’t even  _touched_ you yet,” he added seductively. “No more pretending, my bonded. I can feel my blood running raw and wild through you. I’m going to make you come again right now just with a kiss…”

Lillian turned her head away and clenched her eyes shut.

Godric dropped his hands and stepped back in surprise. “Lily?”

“This isn’t right. I can’t do this to Eric!” She threw her hands over her mouth. “How could you?!”

“What is wrong?” he was genuinely shocked.

“ _This_  is wrong. You’ve got me spellbound and all spun up! Eric would be…”

“Eric? Eric is pleased as punch! Like Christmas – you said yourself.”

“Not about us getting physical!”

“Lillian Choate, you astound me!” He stepped back even further, confounded, trying to gauge her. “Eric knows damn well – and you should too by now – that there’s nothing more intimate than a blood bond. Nothing! You are ours and we are yours. You’re worried about physicality? We’ve just bared our souls – mated them, bound them together! Our  _souls_ , Lillian! What is flesh and bodies to that intimacy? An afterthought! A canvas for what we share!”

Lillian took a measured breath and closed her eyes again. She was getting slammed on both ends of the bond with the men’s overexcitement. At the same time, she could feel Eric’s laser-like focus; he was working. He paused, sensing her feeling after him, then sent her a push of giddy playfulness. On the other hand, Godric’s side of the bond rippled with confusion.

“I can feel your uncertainty.  _You_  don’t even believe what you’re saying. What the hell!” she said in a panic.

“Tsk, tsk. Read the bond more carefully or else do me a favor and just ask. I’m unsure about what I should do next in order to appease you, not unsure about what I’ve just said.”

Lillian pinched between her eyes, trying to wrap her head around what was transpiring.

“We promised each other we’d stick together. I don’t want to foment jealousy from the word go. I don’t want to be the apple of discord steamrolling right between you and Eric.”

He shook his head and laughed at her. “Sure. But you’ve got it hopelessly backwards. When we discussed it, Eric wasn’t worried that he would be jealous of your attentions towards me. He thinks it bizarre that anyone  _wouldn’t_  worship the ground I walk on! You and I don’t know each other very well yet. You realize that is why Eric left us alone tonight, right? To give us a bit of time together? Just like you so thoughtfully did for us this evening…Thank you, by the way. No, darling. If anything, I was worried that  _I_ would be jealous of his devotion to  _you_ , since I’m now not only privy to his feelings but can also feel just how much you love and desire him in return. Can’t you see that?”

“Well how in unholy hell did you ever manage to accept Pam, pray tell?”

“Pamela is a blessing of a progeny! But progeny, nevertheless. She will always be subservient to Eric, and by extension me as well. You, on the other hand…You obey no one!”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.” His end of the bond trembled weirdly and flattened out like it was trying to retract.

“I thought we were just getting accustomed to each other. I just wanted to please you. You don’t want it?”

It was her turn to laugh at him. Those were the very words Eric had uttered when he went from being completely cold towards her to practically licking her tonsils while doing 90mph on the highway. Vampires were clueless sometimes.

“Obviously you  _more_ than please me, Godric. I am just trying to get a sense of what the hell boundaries there are in this. I’m trying to figure out my own inhibitions and you alls as well so we’re not stomping all over each other and fucking this up from the beginning.”

“I don’t want you to feel inhibited towards me! I want…I want you to love me. I want to love you, too!”

And there it was. It was as simple as that, she realized. The flattened feeling in the bond was  _vulnerability_. She was so used to paying attention to just how dangerous and crafty vampires could be that she gave no mind to the fact that even they could feel exposed.

She went to him and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. “I’m really sorry. I ruined our nice little moment there. I freaked out.”

The invisible cord running right through her relaxed and became fizzy.

She kissed him and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I should have realized. We’ll find our rhythm. Whatever is right for us.” He cradled her tenderly and he felt her tremble. “It’s an emotional overload to be suddenly jumbled together and you’re worn out. I drank deeply and you should eat. Why don’t you go find something sugary in the freezer? There’s a ramekin of raspberry sorbet I made…”

She perked up at this. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” He kissed her forehead. “Go on. Go get a snack.” Lillian sighed heavily, realizing just how much she needed to learn in short order.

“I’ll join you in a minute.” Godric pushed at himself uncomfortably through his jeans. “I should shower and change clothes. I came like a pig! For half an hour at least!” He winked at her, lightening the mood.

Lillian rolled her eyes. “Pig indeed! You could at least act your age!”

“Hey! My body still thinks it’s 20 years old! You’re the cougar in this equation.”

“Oh my god, I’ve bound myself to two immortal perverts. And I’m barely 30, old man! May Thor save me!”

Godric let out a peel of laughter. “Watch it, sweetheart. You let Eric hear you say that and I promise he’ll give you a hammering worthy of the mighty god himself!”

Lillian did a very unladylike thing next. She offered a nicely manicured middle finger and walked out on her newly bonded mate.


	18. This Means War

The stunning dark-haired beauty snapped her fingers loudly.

“Earth to Northman! Hello!”

Eric looked at her in annoyance. He had felt slight turmoil between his maker and his human several times this evening. It had set him on edge, but now things seemed to be sailing smoothly.

“I heard you the first time, Indira. May a man consider his opinion before giving it or would you rip it from him with that barbed tongue of yours?”

“You’ve been distracted all evening. Do you agree or no?”

Pam hissed at the woman for speaking to her master in such a tone.

“Back down, Barbie. We need your decision, Eric.”

“Yes,” he snapped. “I’ll pay for it. Pam, draw up the papers and make the transfer.” He swore under his breath. What a headache. He was now going to be the proud owner of a goddamned silver mine in Bolivia. Nearly a billion dollars sunk into a literal pit of gross human rights violations and environmental destruction. No good deed goes unpunished, that was for certain.

“Perfect!” declared Sophie-Anne. “Thalia, get your people in Tokyo to buy up those securities. My brokers will be ready in London to start at first bell.”

The impromptu war council had been remarkably swift to get their hands on enough silver – and glamoured silversmiths – to make the weapons and enclosure they hoped would be strong enough to take down one of the oldest vampires in existence before he drained half of the Southern U.S. Eric was more than happy to give Sophie the credit she was due; she’d moved mountains in the course of a night to gather the needed resources and shouldered the immediate financial burden herself. Unfortunately, in their rush, they couldn’t adequately cushion the repercussions of snapping up such an enormous amount of silver off the global market. Their arms were already being delivered but they were now busy playing catch up to forestall an economic meltdown caused by the sudden rise in silver prices.

Pam was furious that this little “mistake” (which she considered more than purposeful) meant revealing the extent of Eric’s vast stretches of wealth. Stan Davis, who had joined them from Dallas, was flat-out astonished. As Eric had absorbed Houston into his territory some time ago, they were neighboring regents with a decided interest on keeping tabs on one another. Even worse was the twinkle in Victor Madden’s eye. Why the Las Vegas regent Felipe de Castro had decided to punish them with the presence of his loathsome, wheedling second-in-command was beyond comprehension, but would no doubt have blowback later on. There was no reason for Castro to be involved, so his offer of help needed to be carefully evaluated. Pam and Eric agreed privately that it might be the beginning overtures of a courtship with Sophie-Anne. Of course, no one commented on several of the notable absences around their table. Where was Chicago or the Dakotas? The territories abutting Greysolon’s were absent. It did not bode well. While it came as no surprise that Russell Edgington (of Arkansas and northern Mississippi) was a no-show, since he only ever did anything out of boredom or pure self-interest, he might at any point always send his lover, Talbot, just to complicate things. Talbot was forever trying to sleep with Eric, and Eric despised being distracted during a fight only slightly more than he despised Russell. All in all, in Pam’s estimation this little war band was a hot mess.

~OOO~

After the first cup of sorbet, Lillian felt so rejuvenated by the influx of sugar in her bloodstream that she decided to have a second serving, then ravaged a bowl of taboulé and finished things off with a splurge of chocolate. Not exactly the dinner of champions, but hey, she’d just had an exhausting couple of hours forging a blood bond. Godric emerged clean and (thankfully) clothed. He raised an eyebrow when he saw the carnage she’d wrought all over the counter but smartly said nothing.

“You know what?” she said saucily between chocolaty chews. “I’ve decided your cooking sucks. You never use enough onion and I seriously miss garlic and scapes in my diet. I’m going to start eating only Italian. Either you start catering to your clientele or I’m going to find a vampire chef named Paolo or Giovanni or something.”

“You know everything in the allium family is irritating to us.”

“Exactly. And I find it irritating to be fed like veal for the slaughter behind my back. Mmm, oh man, veal! Do we have any?”

“You’re probably craving B12. There’s paté in the middle crisper. Of course, since you don’t like my food, I’ll just go ahead and toss that out for you…”

Lillian dove at the fridge to get to it before Godric, but she was too late. He’d zipped right past her and nabbed it before she could blink. Holding it over his head, he taunted her and kept her from leaping at it with an iron grip around her waist.

“Come now, Dr. Choate. Don’t tell me you’re fickle! I thought you said my food sucks,” he teased.

She pinched at him but he merely purred, declaring “Oh, that’s it. A little harder, though.”

“You a-hole!” she cried and thumped at him in futility.

“Look at the neglect I have to endure. One minute I’m the secret to unlocking your powers, the next I’m a domestic abuse victim!”

“Oh, I’m gonna…” She switched tactics and this time tried to bite the arm that held her firmly in place. Her blunt teeth landed on the blue zigzags of his tattooed bicep and his fangs dropped instinctively. He wretched back.

“Watch it, woman!” The wild and dark look in his eyes told her they weren’t playing anymore. He released her and handed over the Tupperware.

“Sorry!” she squeaked.

“Mmm, Lillian…You should know better than that. No nipping unless you want to get nipped!” He tapped on her nose like a naughty puppy. He took a step closer and wrapped a hand around her neck, fangs fully run out. “I’ve heard some consider bite marks to be love notes written in the flesh.”

A cellphone started ringing in the living room. Lillian cocked her head, recognizing the synth beat of the tune.

 _One night to be confused_  
One night to speed up truth  
We had a promise made  
Four hands and then away  
Both under influence  
We had divine sense  
To know what to say  
Mind is a razorblade

Godric released her and snatched up the phone. “What?” he barked. His tone softened. Blessedly, for the first time in months a language started pouring out of one of the vampires that wasn’t dead or completely obscure to her. “ _Ani!…Ouais, tu me manques aussi. Quoi de neuf là bas?…Alors il faut que tu me dises l’histoire de ce con_   _là, Greysolon…Apparement il est en train d’emmerder la moitié du pays…”_ [Ani!…Yeah, I miss you too. What’s new over there? So, you’ve got to tell me the story on this fool Greysolon…Apparently he’s in the process of pissing off half the country…]

He wandered about the apartment, pacing from room to room while talking. Lillian cleaned up her mess in the kitchen and tried (mostly) to not eavesdrop. Finally he ended the call and hopped next to her on the couch, where she’d become (mostly) engrossed in an online game of Tetris.

“Well, that was enlightening. My friend Anouk knows quite a few curious stories about Greysolon, particularly regarding him and the were-packs.”

“Who is she?”

“Anouk? Oh, goodness. Let’s see, we met in Alexandria – Egypt, not Virginia, mind you. We’ve done some traveling together. Of course there’s the time I saved her butt in Stalingrad during the second World War…”

“I mean, is she like another regent or something?”

“Nah, she’s just a fixture in Quebec. Likes to keep a low profile these days. Why?”

“Oh. No reason.” Lillian fell quiet, then added with a tinge of jealousy, “You have an interesting choice of ringtone for her.”

Godric snarked in laughter. “Right. You do realize that is Eric’s doing, no? What was that, The Knife’s ‘Heartbeats,’ I believe?”

“Yeah. So you listen to new age and electronic music, huh? Who’d have guessed.”

“Call me, I bet he changed it for all my incoming calls. He’s dicking around with us.”

“I don’t have your number.” That’s right. Because she blood bonded her soul to someone whose telephone number she didn’t even know.

“Here, where’s your cell?”

“It’s in my…” She hadn’t finished the sentence and he was already sitting back next to her having retrieved the phone from her purse. He dialed himself and let it ring.

 _…One night of magic rush_  
The start – a simple touch  
One night to push and scream  
And then relief…

 _… And you, you knew the hand of a devil_  
And you kept us awake with wolves teeth  
Sharing different heartbeats in one night…

He looked at her with an impish grin. “You realize this means war, yes? We must plot our revenge.”

“Is he always so hamfisted? I mean, ‘The Knife’…Har, har. Heartbeats? Har har. What a cockbag! Here, give me your phone. He’s expecting your call, yeah?”

“Mmhmm. What do you have in mind?”

~OOO~

Pam had just brought the paperwork for Eric to sign when the palace secretary opened the conference room door to usher in a guest.

“Mistress, may I present Lord Edgington’s royal consort and second in command.”

“Oh Talbot! I just knew we’d see you by the end of the night. Look at this suit! Is that Italian super 150? What gorgeous material. You are looking dashing as ever!” Sophie-Anne fawned over him.

Eric’s hand tightened over his fountain pen. Pam put a hand on his shoulder in warning before he snapped it.

“So! Where do things stand? Have we caught this nasty boy or what?” the Greek waved an affected hand about and naturally wedged himself down next to Eric. “Lord Eric, goodness me. It has been too long.”

“It’s been 3 months,” Eric said through a clenched jaw.

“Yes, yes. Such a shame all that unpleasant business between our territories. We should really find a way to kiss and make up, no?” He practically batted his eyes at the norse vampire.

“Mmm…and goodness. Who  _have_  you been eating?” he leaned in dangerously close to Eric to sniff at his lapel. “You smell like cotton candy, sunshine, and sex! Is this one of yours, Lady Leclerq?”

“As a matter of fact, no. Eric has been a picky eater. Nothing has interested him among the palace donors. Perhaps this human would like to join our cafeteria services?”

Victor Madden didn’t miss a beat. “Now that you mention it Talbot, I didn’t want to be rude, but I too noticed this scent. Who is the little morsel, Viking? Surely not the same girl Compton was going on about…”

Thalia and Indira exchanged glances. This was nonsense that they didn’t have time for.

“Eric, darling?” Sophie-Anne pressed.

“She is claimed. That is all that is relevant.”

“Mmm, touchy touchy. I like a possessive man…” Talbot stroked Eric’s chest. He growled at him in warning.

Victor wasn’t going to let up. “But I’m confused, Northman. Perhaps you can clarify for me – is she indeed your sire’s or is she yours? It’s unlike you to eat off daddy’s plate…”

Eric’s phone couldn’t have chosen a more perfect moment to begin ringing.  _What_ it started ringing, however, raised eyebrows around the table, including his.

 _Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight_  
Won’t somebody help me chase the shadows away  
Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight  
Take me through the darkness to the break of the day

Talbot squealed in delight.

He answered the call with a snarl. “Speak.”

“I hope you like your new ringtone, child. I had help picking it out.”

Eric grunted. He despised ABBA.

“What is the status on Marduk?” Godric asked.

“He’s gone silent. No attacks have been reported tonight. We paid Greysolon a visit at the warehouse and he could only tell us that Marduk was still in the city. His next move is anyone’s guess. We’ve got the trap mostly in place if he decides to go after Greysolon.”

“Fine. Put me on speaker.”

Eric set the phone down on the middle of the table. “Godric wishes to speak with us.”

“Good evening all,” his voice sounded tinny over speakerphone. “I’ve acquired some new information that might help us understand how to negotiate with the packs in Minnesota and Canada.”

Thalia, being nearly as old as Godric, didn’t hesitate to interrupt him. “I should hope so! We’re sitting on our asses while we let these furballs run out our own kind.”

“As I’m sure you are all aware, Daniel Greysolon was a fur trapper during his human life who operated in the Great Lakes region. He returned vampire after a wolf trapping expedition to Grand Rapids. Something happened between him and the Ojibwe living in the area and he went north unexpectedly, leaving his party behind – this much was documented in the newspapers. My source in Montreal did some digging and found several more intriguing pieces to the story. First, you’ll recall that the French traders back then called the Nakota peoples Sioux. This was short for Nadouessioux, itself a bastardization of what their enemies’ called them – Natowessiwak or ‘little snakes’. The details are sketchy, but according to local lore the Nakota around Lake Vermillion were somewhat mysteriously protected from invaders, war parties, and the like, in part because of the area’s fearsome reputation. The original name for the lake was Onamuni – ‘lake of the sunset glow.’ I’m told it was so named not because of its picturesque evening views but because local humans knew you had better be out of there by sundown. If that doesn’t smack of a vampire in the area, I don’t know what does.”

“Godric, enough with the fucking history lesson. Get to the point.”

“Thalia, you can start ripping heads just as soon as you know  _which_ heads you’re after. Or have you already put the pieces together yourself?” Godric seethed on the other end of the line.

“We’re listening, sire. Go on,” said Pam, who despite being one of the youngest at the table was maintaining the coolest head.

“I think it’s highly probable that Marduk must have been using this place as his territory at the time. Given that he has always been known as a dragon or snake, it could just be big coincidence that the humans in the area were called ‘little snakes,’ but I’m inclined to think there’s no such thing as a big coincidence. The fact that Greysolon got into a tiff with the Ojibwe while he was hunting  _wolf_  suggests that he must have accidently taken out some local were. Trappers were always after the biggest pelts – he could have even shot the damn alpha for all we know.”

Eric was catching on. “You think they sent him north into dangerous country as revenge, hoping he’d get eaten?”

“With visions of more wolfy furs dancing in his head!” Sophie-Anne clapped.

“I’m of the opinion that we should send a delegate to contact the pack leaders in the area and see if we can’t start a dialogue. Find out just want they are after.”

“Godric, as usual we find ourselves greatly indebted to you. This is enormously helpful. Thank you! I only wish you’d come down here and join us, it’s quite the little party we’ve gathered here!” cooed Sophie-Anne.

“Yes, Godric,” Victor chimed in. “We’d be ever so honored by your presence. You should bring this pet of yours we’ve been hearing so much about. Or is it Eric’s? I’m still unclear on the whole thing…”

Pam dug her nails into Eric’s arm under the table to keep him from doing anything stupid. He was quickly losing control of the situation. He’d known his hand was going to get pushed sooner or later, but he had hoped he could buy himself a little more time. Eric was going to end Compton for this. Slowly. And then Madden, overreaching weasel that he was.

Godric didn’t miss a beat. “Who dares address me so? Name yourself.”

“Victor Madden, charmed, I’m sure.”

“I neither know nor care who you are. I am, however, not surprised to hear that any of the misfits clattering around New Orleans would be so foolish as to meddle in my affairs or those of my progeny. The human in question is no pet. She is an asset of Eric’s territory. She is claimed _._  She is our blood bonded. She is  _ours_. Understood?”

The room fell dead silent.

Stan, utterly shocked, spoke out of turn. “Yours…Both?”

“My maker needn’t repeat himself,” Eric seethed. “Unless, of course, you’d like him to give you a lesson on manners.”

Stan threw his hands up. “My mistake.” He knew the Celt by reputation only, and that was all he cared to know of him. The fact that two elder vampires would simultaneously take the risk of vouching for and tying themselves to a human meant that she must really be something special. This little interlude raised far more questions than it answered.

Godric continued. “As for the real business at hand, Eric has already arranged to send a representative to the weres. Unlike most of you barbarians he knows the value of well-placed friends, even furry ones. Is this agreeable?”

A murmur of discussion swept through the room.

“Who is he?” snarled Andre.

“Can be trusted?” inquired Indira.

Eric nodded. “His name is Herveux and I practically own him. He’s honest, no political aspirations. He’ll get the job done.”

“Do it. Send him,” confirmed Thalia.

Eric snatched the phone up and switched off the speaker. “ _Jag ska ringer till dig snart._   _Puss och kram._ ” [I’ll call you soon. Kisses and hugs.] He angrily cut off the call. It might not seem obvious, but Eric was not a “kisses and hugs” kind of guy, at least not when it came to his phone etiquette. This was his code to Godric that shit was hitting the fan and he was not a happy vamper. However, no one at the table other than Pam and he actually spoke Swedish – another benefit of using what he often referred to as the little language with a “huge” following. Of course, he meant himself and not the fact that so few actually spoke it.

~OOO~

Godric set his phone down.

“Why were they asking about me? What did they want to know? This is bad isn’t it? Oh my god…”

“It’s not great.”

“Telling them…Claiming me like that…that was your last resort, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Crap.”

“Pretty much.”

“Eric can glamour other vampires, right? He could just make them forget!”

“And the rest of vampire society? No, Lillian. It is not feasible. News travels too fast now among our kind. This was the right course of action.”

“I’m sorry you had to do that though.”

Godric waved her apology off and sunk back into the couch in thought.

“Want me to fix you a blood?”

He smiled and patted her knee. “Nah, I ate unusually well tonight. Best meal I’ve had in centuries.”

There was something Lillian had been curious about, but she hadn’t brought it up with either Eric or Godric. “You waited until I started coming to bite me, like Eric. Does it taste different or is it just so the bite hurts in a good way?”

“Hmm. Both. We’re predators by nature, so it’s similar to how it tastes when a human is afraid- full of endorphins, high blood pressure, exquisite. But I’d rather get that rush from you in pleasure. Tell me, how did I taste to you?”

Lillian didn’t hesitate. “You taste of the divine – something eternal, sublime. It’s salty sweet and has a slightly thicker texture than Eric’s. It tastes like you smell, if that makes sense – crisp and woodsy, like the air right before it snows.”

He’d never heard his scent described this way. It pleased him. “Ask me something now. It’s your turn.”

“Hm, okay.” She liked this game. “Before, when I bit you. Was that excited Godric or deadly Godric?”

“Excited. Very, very excited.” Just thinking about her biting him started to get him aroused again.

“Good to know.”

He rearranged himself so he was facing her sitting cross-legged. “Tell me something no one else knows about you.”

“Oh, gosh. Umm…” She had to think about this one. “Okay. But this is a real secret. As a young woman I hated what a big deal everyone made about a girl’s virginity and who you ‘gave’ it to, how special it was, blah blah blah. Have you heard that some girls are so obsessed with this that they are having tons of anal sex and still think they qualify as virgins!? It’s a bunch of bullshit. I decided to break my own hymen and figured then I’d always belong to myself. Of course, it confused the hell out of my first boyfriend when I didn’t bleed.”

This astonished Godric. “That’s amazing. Only a woman of this era would do such a thing.”

“My turn. Were you married as a human?”

“No. I was betrothed to a girl though. She was sweet and had freckles and was the daughter of an important man. I suppose she married one of my brothers after I was gone. I’m glad you’re not wed either. Who has been your favorite human lover so far?”

“Ha. You’re not going to go kill him or mess with him are you?”

“No! I’m just curious.”

“Okay. He’s a friend and colleague of mine that I dated in grad school. He was the first person to make love to me in a way that really showed he worshiped my body. We still meet up for lunch if we’re at the same conference but it always feels a bit sneaky since his wife despises me. I doubt she knows he also sends me little emails on my birthday and valentine’s day. What’s the craziest place you’ve ever had sex?”

“The sky.”

“On an airplane? That’s kinda clichéd, no?”

“No. Just in the sky. Flying.”

Lillian’s mouth gaped for a moment.

“Same question for you.”

“Aww that’s not even fair! Nowhere even remotely interesting. I’ve had a very vanilla sex life until I met Eric. Ask something else.”

Godric snorted. “Eric has that effect on people. One minute they’re nice girls, next they’re drinking blood and biting strange men.” Oh gods, he had to stop thinking about that! “Ah, let’s see. What’s your family like?”

“I’m an only child, but my parents have lots of siblings, so there’s plenty of us. My parents managed to spoil me completely and somehow make me realize how incredibly fortunate I am for everything I’ve had in life. I’ve been a very, very lucky girl. What about you? Where was your maker from?”

“No. Skip.”

“Skip?”

“Skip.” His lips were pressed in a tight, tense line.

“Sorry…Um, alright. What’s your favorite memory from the last, I dunno, decade, let’s say?”

He relaxed slightly. “That’s easy, but it’s a tie. Is that okay?”

“Sure.”

“Then the first is watching the sun rise for the first time in 2700 years at the Treehouse with Eric. The other is the night you walked into my kitchen.”

“How can that be a tie!? Those don’t even compare.”

“They’re my memories – I get to decide. My turn. Show me where you’re most ticklish.”

“Oh man… you better not abuse this knowledge!”

“I cannot make that promise. But I will compromise and not take advantage of it this evening.”

Lillian huffed before twisting around and pointing to the nape of her neck. He leaned in and kissed the spot lightly, sending shivery goosebumps running down her arms.

“How do you keep from getting bored after so long? What’s the secret?”

“To always become fascinated with something from the age you’re in. Immortality is quickly lost if you fail to stay engaged with the world. Before my restaurant, I was a surgeon. Biomedicine grew so quickly in the first half of the 20th century. It was a remarkable thing to witness.”

“I can see you doing that. You’re very precise and detail oriented. I bet you were amazing.”

“I was pretty good. Only available for evening shifts, though…”

“And probably the only doctor that nipped unconscious patients.”

“Never!” he said, feigning shock. “Okay, maybe a few,” he admitted with a sly grin. “Only when they were done for!”

“Sure, sure. That’s what you say now.” She paused, trying to gauge whether her next question would be acceptable. “I understand if you don’t want to share this. But I’m curious about the night you found Eric dying by the sea.”

“Ah…now that is a story, my love. Shall I tell you?” She nodded anxiously. He stretched as if readying himself, then pulled Lillian into his arms so that they were spooning on the couch. He cuddled her. In a flight of fancy, he whispered the a few lines of verse he remembered against the curve of her ear.

“Sing to me of the man, Muse, that man of twists and turns  
the skilled one, that wanderer, driven time and again off course.”

“ _The Odyssey_?”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed deeply in concentration, trying to find the right words for one of the most important parts of his life.

“This is the beginning of Eiríkr, Son of Godrík. He was a king by blood and a warrior by craft and by turns he was made vampire by my own willing hand. It was very late in the night along the Baltic Sea and the summer winds already blew with the bite of fall in them. I’d risen that evening hearing the sounds of battle from a distance and I went to them in the hopes of draining a few soldiers. When I arrived, the grassy battlefield was littered with the dead and dying. In the midst of the two clashing Viking bands, a blond lion fought with a ferocity I’d never seen in a mortal man before or since. He cut down his enemies two and three at a time to get to the leader they were protecting. This coward – a king by murder, a usurper – hid behind young men and boys half his age. When Eric reached him at last, he ran his sword through him until his knuckles pushed into the man’s chest. I was stunned to watch him lick his enemy’s blood off his hand and spit it in his face. Eric hovered over him so that he could watch death steel over his eyes. In his last moments, the treacherous bastard pulled a short blade out and caught Eric on the inside of his thigh. I saw this from the copse of trees where I was hiding and screamed out in warning, but it was too late. Even over the stench and gore of the fight I could smell his blood pouring hotly out of him and I knew it would be a fatal wound. Eric was so proud, he barely even flinched at the dead man’s final insult. He tried to walk back to his people before collapsing.”

“Oh my god. Poor Eric! How did you get to him in time?” Lillian was so absorbed in the tale that she didn’t realize how hard she was clutching Godric’s hand.

“Aye. I flew like the wind. They had laid him out on a bed of thick furs inside a wood canoe. I can still remember the feel of the surf and gritty sand on my bare feet as I ran. His brothers in arms were drinking and singing around a large fire, waiting out their prince’s death and celebrating their victory. In their distraction, I fed Eric my blood from one wrist while sealing the wound to his leg. He laughed at me then and cursed me and threatened to fight me. He said if he’d known Death was just a little boy he’d have fought more bravely and fucked twice as much.”

Godric paused, lost in that moment long ago. Lillian wiggled around onto the flat of her back to see him. He was glassy-eyed and a wistful smile danced on his mouth.

“What happened next?” she whispered.

“I don’t know what came over me. I’d only intended to heal him. But to see a man like that be struck down when a creature as vile as myself could creep through this world with immortality…it wasn’t right. I asked him if he could walk the nights with me as Death, if he could be my companion. Do you know what he said? The little shit dared to ask what was in it for him! So I left him there, determined to let him find his own way, unsure if I’d given him enough blood to keep him alive. The next night I had already walked halfway back to that place on the shore before I realized what I was doing. I knew then that if I found him there that I would turn him.”

“And?”

“He was. I knew, of course – I could feel him in the blood bond I’d made the night before. But I had no way of knowing what he meant to do. He had sent his men away and he was there on that beach, alone, sitting on his overturned funeral canoe with his sword slung over his shoulder and an arrogant look on his face. And do you know what? He was singing an old song welcoming death.”

“That is one of the most beautiful stories I’ve ever heard.” She couldn’t resist kissing him sweetly on the cheek. “Thank you.”

He purred in happiness. “Now, I have told you a tale from the past. Why don’t you tell me something about the future?”

She laughed and closed her eyes, trying to relax. She waited a long moment, but she saw only darkness. “I don’t think that your super-blood as kicked in yet,” she said, trying not to sound too disappointed.

“Nothing?”

She pinched at him in annoyance. “Fine!” She adopted a droning, ominous voice. “Fortune is on your side. You’re going to fall in love and be very wealthy and live an impossibly long life!”

“See, you’re a natural!” She pinched at him again furiously and they both lost themselves in a fit of giggles. Lillian sat up to wipe the tears of laughter from her eyes and suddenly an image flashed into her head. She froze stock still. It had that strange telescopic feel to it.

“What? Lily, what is it?”

“You know you’re going to…” A hand flew to her mouth. Godric could hear her heart stutter.

“What. Tell me! You’ve seen something.”

She shook her head, eyes wide as saucers. “Skip,” was all she could squeak out.

“Skip?”

She nodded gravely. “Trust me. That’s a skip. I’ll tell you when it’s time.”

Godric pushed at his bond with her delicately, trying to piece out what she was feeling. He knew this was cheating perhaps, but whatever she had just seen had terrified her, exhilarated her, and stunned her all at once.

~OOO~

Eric felt another rollicking onslaught of emotions twisting through his blood bonds. He wanted to get back to his maker and human and began trying to rush the meeting to a close. Sophie-Anne’s secretary came in and whispered in her ear. Eric hoped other business would call her away and they would be done here.

“What!?” Sophie-Anne looked at her guests in shock. “Send her in!” she ordered harshly.

Lorena Ball slunk into the room looking especially pallid and underwhelming.

“Is this true? Bill has been abducted by the Duluth werewolves?”

There were gasps.

“Yes, ma’am. My child is calling to me desperately. Please, your highness, please help him.”

“Poor Bill!” Talbot cried, taking the opportunity to grab Eric’s arm. And leg. A finger may have wandered slightly into cock and ball territory.

“For fucks sake Sophie-Anne,” Eric said shaking his head and shoving Talbot away. “Let me guess. You sent your rat of a spy up there without telling any of us and now he’s been nabbed by the dogs? You’ve compromised everything we’ve been working towards!”

“He wasn’t there on my orders!” she protested.

“I see. So you’re unable to control your minions then?” Eric retorted. Sophie went to speak but wisely decided to shut her mouth. Either way, this did not paint her in a flattering light.

Thalia hissed. “We must stop this treachery dead in its tracks! We should attack. Screw diplomacy. Taking one of Sophie’s subjects hostage? They’ve just declared war on her!”

“Everyone calm down!” Andre said.

“Shut up!” Eric, Thalia, and Sophie-Anne yelled at him in unison.

“You’ve handed them leverage giftwrapped! This is a nightmare.” Indira clucked her tongue.

“It’s only leverage if we care about his fate. I, for one, do not.” Eric smoothed his jacket and folded his hands calmly in front of him. He’d tried being a team player. Now he was going to do things his way. “Sophie, this breach in protocol is unacceptable. We will deal with it at a later date. Pam, you will go to Duluth and unfuck this disaster. I’m sure Sophie will send her twins with you for muscle.”

“Of course,” chimed Sophie-Anne, trying to seem amenable.

“The Berts? They’re so stupid, Eric!”

“Yes, but very handy with swords. They’ll help you keep those fucking children of Greysolon’s under control – put them on lockdown if you must. Confirm that no other members of his court have been taken other than the three we’ve already heard about. No one is to lay a finger on the dogs until Herveux has talked with the packmaster. And see if you can’t get the god damned neighboring regents to give you a hand! Bribe them if you must. I’ve no doubt they’re fed up with Greysolon’s subjects running into their territories with nothing to offer. How I know the feeling…” He shot a dirty look at Talbot.

Lorena went to speak. Eric cut her off. “I don’t want you anywhere near this. That you’re so incompetent as a maker that your own child can’t fight off a few werepuppies tells me you’re too much of a fool to be left to your own devices. Stay here and help Andre destroy the forensic evidence from Marduk’s victims. The rest of you carry on with your roles in our plan.”

“Ma’am?” Lorena turned to her regent, hoping she would contradict the Viking. She didn’t.

“Any questions? No? Good. Then I bid you good day. Call me in Shreveport, I’m leaving the city.” Eric stormed out of the room and Pam clacked after him in her precariously tall heels.


	19. The Lodge

The vibrations on the double paned jet window thrummed against Lillian’s forehead and she jerked awake. She hadn’t been conscious at 10:30am in months and she felt like hell warmed over. She didn’t even remember the plane taking off and now they were already bumping along the short runway in Shreveport.

“You alright, ma’am?” Jeremy reached across the aisle to her. Eric had insisted she be accompanied by her ex-marine daemon bodyguard. He could be stunningly high-handed sometimes.

“Yah, m’fine.” She rubbed her face, trying to wake up. It might have only been half an hour, but she’d had busy, unsettling dreams. Some of the images were deeply distressing, some were extraordinarily erotic. She quickly jotted a few keywords down in her notebook as Godric had suggested. Her dreams could be more than just an overactive imagination now.

“You all set? Just stick to the story, don’t elaborate, and I’ll meet you out front with the truck. If you get flustered, just pretend to cry or get choked up.”

“Yes, sensei,” she muttered.

This was going to be interesting. Lillian was more than a bit surprised when Eric had returned last night and explained he wanted to leave the city – during the day. With Marduk on the lam and no way of knowing whether he had the gift of flight, Eric didn’t want to risk moving at night. Jeremy took care of their “baggage” in New Orleans, but now she was going to have to sign off on it here. She pulled out a handkerchief and disembarked down the stairwell to the tarmac.

“Good morning Dr. Choate. Manifesto says you’re transporting some remains?” a stubby, round-faced man yelled over the sound of the engines.

“Yes, sir. Oh god, it’s just been so terrible! Three of my lab assistants killed. Three! Just terrible, terrible. Please, what do I need to do?”

“So sorry for your loss, miss. You’ll need to come this way, please. We’ll get this taken care of in a jiffy.” The sweaty man looked on her sympathetically and ushered her towards the building. As Eric had anticipated, no one would think to question a pretty lady with the prefix “Dr.” in front of her name. Doctor of what, precisely, she didn’t need to reveal.

The routine paperwork and procedures were actually fairly easy. Pam was a whiz with computers and had created a stack of medical forms declaring that the three coffins contained the bodies of medical students fatally poisoned by an accidental gas leak. It wasn’t long before the coffins were cleared for pickup.

Jeremy got them into the truck and they headed down the winding county highway. When they passed the turnoff for the Treehouse, she became alarmed.

“Jeremy…where are you taking us?” She panicked, realizing she had no idea what to do if he had something sordid up his sleeve.

“Calm down, ma’am. Eric didn’t want to tell you beforehand just in case we ran into a problem. He runs a tight ship that one – everything on a need-to-know-basis. He’s having me take you all to his house.”

“His house? Oh…” Of course Lillian realized Eric must have his own house in town. Hell, she already knew he must have numerous places in Shreveport. She’d just never given it much thought. Hadn’t the gate guard said Godric’s place had been shut up for several years before she came to it? She looked back at the rack of coffins in the truck anxiously.

Jeremy made a turn down a narrow road that was unusually well paved for the countryside. The area was heavily wooded for several miles until they came through a bend and the land had been cleared entirely. She pitched forward in her seat and grabbed the dashboard.

“He’s a mad genius!”

“Like it?”

“It’s phenomenal!” He’d barely stopped the vehicle before Lillian leapt out and was jogging towards what was clearly, albeit very subtly, a modern interpretation of a Viking longhouse. The rectangular building sat atop a small hill – a very aggressive defensive position, she noted. The roof was slate with large sections of glass skylight. Unlike Trädkojan, the lower exterior walls were mostly solid stone and instead boasted long window panels that ran along the entire top length of the walls sandwiched between the roof line. It was obvious even at a distance that there wasn’t actually a second floor. Rather, this ring of windows must have a gangway where one could stroll around and see all 360 degrees of the entire property from above. The middle of the building was dominated by an all glass entryway that jutted out. Its low slung inverted V of a roof made it like a glass box and framed a truly massive wood door that was painted red. The surrounding yard was landscaped beautifully in a variety of creeping groundcover and small carefully manicured evergreens, but nothing tall enough to obstruct a near total view of the fields surrounding the house. Nothing tall enough, that was, for anyone to hide behind. She suddenly pitied the fact that this remarkable structure had to live in the balmy Louisiana heat. It should be surrounded in wintertime darkness and everything should glitter with snow, she thought.

As she approached the house, a pair of handsome dogs came springing out from the side. Jeremy yelled at them. “ _Slutta!_ ” They stopped dead in their tracks and Jeremy ran to Lillian’s side. “That’s Luleå on the right and the other one is Njal. Let me introduce you so they don’t freak out.  _Komma!_ ” he ordered. They trotted right to him and sat. Lillian held out her hand let them each sniff.

“You two be nice to Miss Lillian. She’s with master.”

“Aww, good puppies. Do you speak _engelska_? Can you show me your bellies, pup-pups?” The one named Luleå rolled over with a goofy, pink-tongued grin and the other wandered off, finding something more interesting to sniff in the grass.

“What are they?”

“Elk hounds. They live mostly in the barn or the garage around back but if you hear them barking at night, don’t go out. They are very protective of the property and have been trained to recognize…others.”

Lillian didn’t hear much past ‘barn.’ “There’s a barn?”

“Well, more of a small stable, I guess. Øpir and Bonny are in there – Mr. Northman’s Friesians. I’ll show you later.”

“Eric has  _horses!?_ “

“Yep. But you’ll have to talk with him about riding them. Bonny is for Miss Pam and I’ve never seen anyone other than Eric manage stay on Øpir’s back. He also bites.”

“Incredible. I would never have guessed Eric had pets.”

“Here, let me open up the house for you and get everyone inside.”

Jeremy pulled the heavy door open and dug a letter out from his pocket. “He said to give this to you now.”

_My love,_

_Welcome home (again!). Once more I wish I could be with you to share this moment, but I’ll give you the real tour tonight. Until then, I’ll be dreaming of you…_

_~E_

She could melt. Walking through the entryway, the interior was exactly what she expected it to be. Only Eric could balance minimal, modern design with enough natural materials so that it felt comfortable instead of cold. Beautiful plush wool rugs carpeted large swaths of the living area which was dotted with low white sectional seating and a floating woodburning firepit. The open kitchen was spare with clean lines – economical but certainly fine for a house where no one ate (much). The roof was supported by massive exposed beams that contrasted with the delicate glass windows and gold-stained wood floors. She wandered around the light-filled, airy space with her mouth hanging wide open. Jeremy finally found her staring out the huge back window which mirrored the entryway and overlooked a terraced backyard. There was a cabana house and shimmering black-bottomed lap pool in the side yard and further below, a stone stable and garage. Beyond that a paddock was set out in nearly invisible electric fence taping.

“If you come with me, ma’am, I’ll show you downstairs. Mr. Northman asked that you be set up down in the master suite. There are guest bedrooms on either end of the house up here though, if you prefer natural light during the day. I’ve also taken the liberty of moving your things from the other place. Everything should be stocked to your liking, but please let me know if there is anything else you need. My apartment is over the garage.”

“Oh Jeremy. Thank you so much! You’ve gone above and beyond, really.” He led her to an inconspicuous wall and swiped a pattern on an odd glass picture hanging there.

“Lay your hand flat here.”

She did and something flashed behind the glass. A section of the wall came to life with a mechanical whirring sound and sunk down, revealing a spiral staircase leading underground.

The downstairs was glorious. The rough hewn stone walls were whitewashed and lined with rustic wood bookshelves packed with beautiful and rare volumes and fascinating curiosities. The main space served as a casual living area. The terra cotta tiled floors gave the space a warm feeling. A long vaulted hallway had rooms leading off either side and ended in a set of heavy wood double doors. In case it was unclear who slept behind them, they were carved with the most intricate Viking tracery she’d ever seen. At the other far end of the lower level, Jeremy used another strange scanner to unlock a steel door, revealing a heavy duty elevator with a rack of 3 coffins on a rolling cart.

“This leads up to the garage. Eric will have to set the keypads to this and the master suite when he wakes up. Only he can change those codes.”

“Jesus. This place is a fortress!”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s what he named it:  _Fästningen_. The Fortress. But usually we just call it the Lodge. Sometimes Miss Pam calls it Rohan, but I think that is just to annoy Mr. Northman.”

Lillian laughed. Of course she called it Rohan.

Grabbing her bags out of the elevator, she helped Jeremy bring everything into the lower living area before checking out the master bedroom. It was simple and perfect. There was a large bed, more built in bookshelves set into the wall, a pair of modernized Dante chairs around a low table and several large round iron chandeliers for light. Off one doorway, she found a fully equipped bathroom with an enormous soaking tub, shower, and (thankfully) toilet. It was obvious that the place wasn’t intended to ever host humans, so she was a bit concerned about the functional aspect of the house. Even the Treehouse didn’t have a proper bathroom in the light tight day rooms underground. A second door led to a large, well-organized closet. She couldn’t help but lean into a rack of suits and smell Eric’s heady scent. Jeremy had left her suitcases in here. It struck her then that Eric had effectively gotten her to move in with him without asking. She’d have to have a word with him about that. Ponies and sweet digs weren’t going to make her lose her own sense of self.

“Does everything appear to be in order, ma’am?”

“Perfect. If you don’t mind, I’m going to crash. I don’t keep these hours anymore.”

“Of course. Like I said, just ring or come knock out back if you need me.”

~OOO~

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” Cool hands caressed her cheek and belly. “Wakey, wakey, lover.”

“Unhhhmph…” She felt her ear nibbled. “Eric…arrrrhhhmmm.” She swatted at him but contacted thin air. Suddenly it was her other ear under attack. She forced her eyes open.

“Hi,” he said, stroking her cheek. “You going to get up now?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“I’ve been waiting for hours!”

“Huh?” This got her attention. “What time is it?”

“It’s going on 10.”

“Oh!” She heard loud clattering noises coming from down the hallway.

“Godric’s upstairs terrorizing the kitchen; he’s been so antsy for you to get up! Pam held her flight to Minnesota just so she could say goodbye and I want to show you everything…” He set upon her with a volley of chilly kisses.

“Okay, I’m up. I’m getting up. You’re freaking impatient for an immortal!”

Eric pulled her upright and she begrudgingly clomped to the bathroom to take care of her human needs. She slipped and nearly wiped out on the tile – there was water all over the floor. She kicked a towel down and examined herself in the mirror. Dark rings circled her eyes and her hair was a fuzzy disaster. She was still wearing the black dress and cardigan ensemble she’d chosen as her “mourning” attire. A quick scrub of her face and teeth and she was feeling slightly more peppy.

Inside the massive closet, someone had already emptied her travel bags and it took her a minute to locate what she was after. She happened upon a drawer of expensive lingerie that wasn’t hers and several other cabinets of unfamiliar women’s clothes, most with the sales tickets still on. She moved quickly past these, assuming Pam had overflowed out of what was likely an even larger closet. She also discovered Godric’s small cubby of things, and lovingly ran her hands over a pile of his cashmere sweaters. Even if she wasn’t 100% peachy with being integrated into the household without her explicit consent (traveling and crashing at a safe house was categorically different, she thought), there was something incredibly lovely about the domesticity these three vampires shared.

“Sleeping Beauty awakes!” Pam declared when Lillian emerged from the stairwell landing into the living room. Pam tossed the fashion magazine she was reading down on the large coffee table and gave her a hug. “Take care of the boys while I’m gone, okay? And help yourself to anything in my room. Eric can give you the code for the safe if you want to wear some baubles. Or even better, make him buy you your own!” She whispered conspiratorially.

“Pamela…” Eric warned.

Rolling her eyes, she picked up two oversized suitcases and headed for the door.

“Pam, be careful up there, okay? I know you’re going to be a great queen, even if it’s temporary. Just don’t be gone too long.”

“Aw pumpkinbuns. You care.”

Lillian gave her a sharp look.  _Love ya. Deal with it_ , she pushed at her.

“See you soon, chiclet.” With that, she hopped into the backseat of Jeremy’s towncar and they headed down the drive.

Godric materialized at the doorway behind her and rested a hand on the small of her back. “Welcome, my bonded. Did you sleep well?” He handed her a champagne flute of mimosa.

“Pretty well, thanks. Hope your ride wasn’t too bumpy. I worried it would get so hot in those horrid boxes!”

He shrugged. Of course the heat or cold didn’t affect them.

She took a sip of the cold drink. “Mmm. This is excellent.” She gave him an orange juicy smooch on the cheek.

“Come get a bite,” he said, then mentally kicked himself for the slip of tongue.

“You know, I don’t think I will ever hear that the normal way again,” she giggled.

He tried to play it off lightly. “You offering then?”

“Let a girl eat first!” She pinched at him and headed to the kitchen. Sitting on a barstool at the island countertop, she tucked into an absurdly large platter of smoked salmon, fruit, bread, and cheese. Godric had made a hellacious mess – she wondered if there was even a clean pot or dish left in the house. Eric sat next to her tapping away at his email while Godric watched her reactions to the various foods in fascination. Or at least that is what she thought.

~OOO~

In fact, Godric was completely on autopilot while he reviewed this evening’s events so far. He’d awoken in his coffin at his usual early hour with the strangest sensation. He felt…weird. He could hear Lillian’s rhythmic heart beat and paced breaths calling to him like a siren’s song. She was sleeping in the same room as he. Eric was also very near him in his own coffin, still fast asleep. Letting himself out, he stood over her for the longest time, simply watching her tiniest movements. Every fiber in his predator’s body was attuned to her. Each time she inhaled, the slightest heave of her bosom, a small twitch pulled at him somewhere directly between his fangs and his groin. He thirsted and ached in desire for her. His mind flooded with erotic thoughts – thoughts of devouring her and pleasing her in every way he knew possible. This sudden and overpowering need stunned Godric to his very core. At his age, he rarely felt so recklessly compulsive and entirely given over to his wanton desires. He made his way into the bathroom, hoping a shower might calm him down. Rather like reptiles, very cold water could slow down a vampire’s hyper-fast thought processes. Leaning with one arm against the marble, the frigid jets streaked over his head and shoulders and he waited for his heightened senses to dampen. They didn’t. After several minutes, he was still actually struggling to suppress his impulses like a newborn vampire. Lathering himself up with a random bottle of Eric’s soap, he thought maybe the different scents would distract him. They didn’t.

“What the hell!” he finally swore aloud. Looking down at his obscenely rock hard erection, he growled in exasperation and started stroking himself in frustration. Desperate for blood, he bit his own wrist. When he finally ejaculated, he was so overcome he actually fell to his knees and cried out. He could hear Eric laughing at him in the room beyond.

Not troubling himself with a towel, he walked out dripping wet, sending puddles splashing across the tile. Wide-eyed and bloody fanged, he pulled at his hair and gestured at his still raging dick to Eric, who was sitting on the edge of the bed watching Lillian slumber.

“Do you care to explain why I’m in there abusing myself like a pathetic boy?!” he yelled in a harsh whisper.

Eric laughed again. “Welcome to bonded life.”

“You’re joking!” he gasped, looking at Lillian. “Gods! She has no idea, does she?”

Eric sucked at his cheeks and shook his head, smiling.

“You’ve controlled yourself this long? How?”

He looked at his maker. “I just tell myself there’s always tomorrow.” He shrugged. “You should know. You taught me.”

“Oh for gods’ sake, Eric! We’ve got to figure something out…some arrangement, some way of making her feeling comfortable…A vampire must never be at the mercy of his emotions. He masters them!”

“Oh yeah, you mastered the hell out of them just now.” Eric started shaking with laughter again.

Godric was more than a little desperate. “Don’t laugh, you idiot! Fuck! I can’t even believe I made it through last night – and that was nothing compared to this. This – tonight – it feels categorically different. It is intolerable! If this goes on for much longer I’m going to break myself!”

“You’re telling me?! I had to  _leave_  the night we first bonded. I was such a disaster in those following days. Godric, I swear on Odin’s hat I was like a deranged masturbating, bloodthirsty monkey. And you know Pamela hardly did a god damn thing to help me. She just sat in that hotel room watching her soap operas and cried blood she was laughing so hard at me. I will never hear the end of it. But I promise, it  _does_ get better. You’ll settle into it.”

“The hell I will!”

~OOO~

Godric snapped out of downtime just as Lillian popped a grape in her mouth and crushed it between her front teeth. Seeing this, he actually swallowed and his eyes rolled back, so overcome was he with the desire to pin a certain round part of hers between his fangs and torture it mercilessly with his tongue until she begged him to stop.

“I don’t need to tell you that this place is fantastic,” she quipped, crunching happily on her breakfast.

“You like?” Eric asked, catching the glazed look on Godric’s face that hinted he was starting to slip.

“I love it! But you already knew that. I swear, why would you mess with running a club if you could just design homes all day long?”

“I do occasionally, but only for clients willing to appreciate my talents. Most people just want some ghastly McMansion with more space than they’ll ever need and a 40 car garage to house their toys.”

“Oh right. Surely there aren’t any toys in your batcave, Mr. Northman.” Godric’s jaw clenched and he gripped the edge of the counter. He was about to lose his shit.

 _Go to Fangtasy,_ Eric pushed at his maker.  _Work it off!_

He nodded imperceptibly.

“So you want to see my toychest, eh?” Eric threw an arm around Lillian’s waist and in a flash, jumped off the balcony and they were standing down the hill in front of the garage. Thankfully, the sudden speed wasn’t quite as forceful as the occasion in New Orleans and her breakfast stayed where it belonged.

“Put me down!”

“Fine. But you must not want this then.” He held up a keyset with a ribbon tied around it.

“Eric…what the heck is that…”

“It’s a little homecoming gift. One of several. Did you not see Pam filled up your side of the closet?”

“That was for me?…Oh jee…Sweetheart, I don’t know what you’ve done, but you know you don’t need to prove to me that you’re a generous, wonderful person. I already know.”

“I know I don’t need to do anything, but it is my wish. Just be a sport and accept it before Pam does.”

She took the key. Inside, the garage was dark. Eric flipped on the overhead lighting, revealing four cars and a couple motorcycles at the end. Several kayaks and a number of gorgeous road bikes were suspended from the roof. She hit the unlock button on the remote and a set of lights flashed next to his familiar flat black Ferrari F12.

“Oh what the hell. Is that…” She went closer to it. “Is that a…” she stuttered, gesturing at a sleek, dark silver vehicle.

“An Aston Martin Vantage V12? Yes.” He said, his eyes sparkling in excitement.

“Eric! No!”

“Yes,” he said firmly.

“It’s not really for me.”

“Tis.” He shrugged.

“Tisn’t!” She put her hands on her hips.

“You don’t want it? Fine, let me try another angle. I was  _going_  to get it one way or another, but I would be  _happier_  sharing it with you and telling Pam she can’t touch it. Compromise?”

Lillian humphed, then a smile cracked unwillingly across her face.

“Good. C’mon, I want to show you around.”

“Eric Northman, you could outwit and out-maneuver the devil himself!”

“Thank you, lover. Though, I try to avoid dealings with full-blooded daemons. Never a good idea.”

They visited the dozing horses and checked out the open pool house, which had a firepit and long billowy curtains. The sky was clear and the bright moon afforded enough light even for Lillian’s weak human eyes to appreciate the gardens that lined each level of the terrace. The hounds snuffled around, following them as they meandered through the grounds.

“Eric?” He stopped and gazed at her with adoration. “It’s wonderful here. Thank you for loving me and trusting me enough to share this little corner of your world with me.”

“It is you who honors me by being here.”

She swallowed hard, hoping the next words wouldn’t sting him. “I wish you’d given me a little heads up, but I know you’ll remember next time.”

“I wanted you to be surprised.”

“I was. Humans make a big deal about moving in together.”

“Oh.” He said. She felt the bond snap back like a rubber band. Ouch. That hurt her too.

“I like the car. It’s completely ridiculous. But I like it. I’m going to do 180 and outrun the cops.”

“They just send the tickets to the house.”

“You would know!” She smiled at the thought of piles of orange speeding citations arriving in the mail.

“Lover?” he pulled her to a small bench and sat down. “I want to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“I did move you in without your permission. But I want to ask you now whether you’ll stay.”

“Aw, Eric. Yeah, I’ll stay here. I like the Treehouse – it’s where we first made love and where we blood bonded and where I met Godric. But I’m sure there are plenty of memories to be made here too. It’s just as enchanting and I get that it’s far safer. It makes sense. I trust you to make the right decisions about this kind of thing. You’ve been doing it a heck of a long time!”

“No, I mean I want you to  _stay_ stay. Don’t go back to Boston. You’re not really moved in if you’re still half there.”

She was momentarily speechless. She hadn’t even thought about what would happen in a month when she was supposed to go back to teaching. Each day here had been a completely wild adventure. She’d barely attended to her work email and hadn’t even begun thinking about developing syllabi for her annual course load.

“Say something,” his voice cracked slightly. “I don’t know what you’re feeling. Your end of the bond is all twisty.”

Lillian took a deep breath. “What about my job?”

“I’m not asking you to give up your career. We can work something out. Though depending on how your gift develops, you might start thinking about how you could use it to your benefit.”

“Well, what about my family and friends? You haven’t even met them.”

“I’m sure they’ll adore me. If not, I’ll just glamour them!”

“You poop, you will not!”

He grinned goofily. “So what do you say? C’mon. At least tell me you’ll consider it. “

She bit her lip and looked him in his ice-chip blue eyes. “Eric. My lover, my bonded…”

Flying leaps. In flying leaps we must all live.

“You know I’ve already made my decision. This is my path now. Let me be clear: I have  _no_  idea what that’s going to mean in a week, a month, or even a year. But we’ve got plenty of time to figure out all the fine details and we’ll figure them out together, okay?”

He kissed her in a frenzy and squeezed her a bit too hard, causing her to squeak.

“Careful there, hulk. I like my ribs uncracked.”

“Sorry!”

“So what’s on the docket for this evening? Are you going to work or do we get to relax a little?”

“Godric is going to put in a showing at Fangtasy, so I’m off the hook tonight. He’s been feeling…a little stir crazy.”

“Yah, I noticed. His bond is all jumpy. Is he okay? He’s not regretting this, is he?”

“No, quite the opposite. He couldn’t be more excited about it!” Lillian could feel his sincerity. The bond rippled in giddiness.

Now, how about I teach you how to fly?”

“Fly?”

“Up there.” He pointed up towards the moon.

“Oh my god. Really?”

He nodded. “You’ll need a jacket.”

Lillian vaulted over the bench and leapt over a clump of succulents to the next level of the terrace. Eric let her think she had a lead on him for perhaps two seconds before he pounced on her and zipped back to the living room balcony. He kissed her passionately, setting her on fire. Then, wrapping her up in a puffy down coat, they ascended into the sky. Wafting slowly through a layer of clouds, he hovered there, letting the moonlight paint them in its silvery light. The air was brisk and whipped around them. She clung to him as tightly as she could.

“You’re okay. I won’t drop you.”

“You’d better not!”

“I’ve only dropped Pam once. The night Godric came here, actually. Did I tell you that?”

Lillian felt faint. “I think I’m gonna vomit…”

“Nooo…You’re fine.” He pushed a wave of confidence at her. “It was an accident. He flipped the bond wide open and I was surprised, that’s all. Pam beat the crap out of me.”

“With good reason!” She squeezed her legs around him even harder and let go enough to look around. “Don’t you worry about planes?”

He laughed, spinning them in circles, sending wisps of cloud vapor swirling in curls around them. “Nah. I’ve got radar.” He pointed to his temple.

“Unreal.”

He rolled onto his back so she was against his chest and sent them floating in no particular direction.

“Just try to relax. Breathe deeply and slowly, I know the air is thin for you. We’re at about 10,000 ft. I won’t go any higher.”

“How high can you go? Can you go into space?!”

“Godric says it is possible. He won’t say how far he’s gone. You still have to stay in the earth’s shadow, of course. I don’t know about the UV from other stars outside of Earth’s ozone. Maybe we’d still need a spacesuit or something not to get fried.” Lillian suddenly thought of Godric standing on the dark side of the moon like the Little Prince. Eric was thinking similar thoughts, though far less romanticized. It sent shivers of cold horror down his spine. For lengths of time, sometimes as punishment but mostly just for privacy, Godric would close down all but the basic thread of their bond. It was enough to know he lived, but not to find him. Only the Gods knew what his maker got up to during those times.

After a long silence, Eric spoke in a small voice. “I tried it once…going out there. But feeling gravity start to completely release you like that…feeling the Earth slip away…I hated it.”

“It scared you.”

He hesitated. “No. It felt like dying.”

More precisely, Eric thought it had felt like choosing to die, which went against every survival instinct in his body.

The revelation shocked Lillian. She should have realized that Eric knew what it felt like to die. He had already died once. She could practically see him bloodied and broken, collapsing into that grassy battlefield near the sea. She thought of him dying and being born for three excruciating days in his maker’s fierce embrace. Thank god for Godric. The firmness of Eric’s body felt comforting to her in that instant. He was here; he was safe.

Eric was silent for a long moment. “It’s this funny little planet that makes all this magic possible. Why would I want to leave it? Space is cold and empty. And there’s no blood out there!”

“Hmm. Good point.” She chuckled. “What about the ocean? Can you use your flight power to move underwater?”

“Oh yes.” His eyes glittered. “Now that is something I love to do. The coral reefs and the things down deep. You couldn’t imagine. Mountains ranges with glowing creatures…And the whales. Above all, the whales, Lila!” He crooked a leg around hers firmly and went rolling giddily and zipped through the sky.

“They remember you; they greet you! We sing together!” he shouted up to the heavens. “I’ve known a blue whale I call Big George for 50 years.”

“That’s amazing! I never pegged you as an animal lover, you know.”

He floated in place and pushed a strand of hair away from Lillian’s face. She was heartbreakingly beautiful in this light, he thought.

“This world…it is precious here, my love. Everything is connected – always moving, changing, morphing in some mysterious dance. It is perhaps the biggest miracle of them all.”

Lillian gazed upwards at the spectacle of the Milky Way. Even the moonlight couldn’t blot it out entirely.

“The night sky has always held the most mystery for me. We look up and all we can see is the smudgy blueprint of an ancient drama unfolding. Billions of years this light has travelled to tell us a lost story. Lost to whatever or whoever lives there now. We’re staring directly at worlds we cannot know for another billion years, and they’re staring back at us, equally blind to our co-existence.”

“Spoken like a true seer.”

There was something she’d wanted to tell him since she’d woken. “I had a dream today that we made love in the Northern lights. It was in a house similar to yours, but somewhere far north, deep in the snow. The colors danced on our bare skin. You sang a song to me in Old Norse and I cried.”

He was taken aback. He leaned away to see her more clearly.

“Lila…I think I know where you’re talking about. I’ve already built that house…”

“Oh good,” was all she said.

“Ah, then it shall be, my little prophetess.” He wrapped his arms protectively around her, amazed at the creature in his arms. “You feel chilly. Should we go back?”

“Hmm. I’m just getting the hang of this. But yes, please. All things in moderation.”

“Moderation?” He feigned confusion. “I’m sorry, my English vocabulary must be missing that word!”

“Eric!” She let go enough to thump him.

He howled in glee and started descending, faster and faster, feet first. Lillian screamed, (mostly) in delight.

They landed softly in the grass in the front yard and he slid her off his hip.

“Thank you Mr. Northman. You know how to entertain, that’s for sure.”

“C’mon. Let’s go curl up under a blanket and watch something stupid on tv. Race you!”

She giggled and sprinted for the door. He jogged backwards in slow motion just to tease her, capturing her in the last instant and tossing her over his shoulder. That stayed up late, laughing and chatting, fighting over the remote, giggling over little secrets shared. It was, she thought, a perfect stay-in date night.


	20. Wicked Things

The next evening Lillian awoke nestled between two cool bodies in the darkness of the master suite. There was a hand on her neck. She opened her eyes and was met by Godric’s gaze.

“Hi,” she said, slightly croaky.

“Hi,” he responded, his head propped up against his hand. He’d been watching her.

“You didn’t wake me up when you came home. When did you get in?”

“Late.” He stroked her neck with the sensitive tips of his fingers, relishing the feel of the artery pulsing deliciously under his light touch. He gave her a sweet smile.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Me too.” Lillian stretched and let out a large yawn. “Really well.”

One of the medieval style chandeliers had been left dimly illuminated, bathing the room in an orange glow. In this faint light she could see his hair was tousled. It was disarming how rakishly young he could look sometimes, especially like this. She ran her fingers through the thick strands, taming it.

Godric sunk back down into the pillows. He let his eyes roam over her contours, taking in the way her hardened nipples pushed against the thin fabric of the t-shirt she had worn to bed. His scent and Eric’s tangled promiscuously all over her soft skin.

 _Hunger._ The thought slipped out and hit her, causing her to flinch. Her eyes grew wide.

“Oops,” he whispered, not sounding remotely apologetic.

“Hey!” She poked his bare chest under the covers.

He ran his thumb roughly over her jugular and down into the hollow of her throat. She could see his eyes dilate into dark pools.

“Eric’s not awake yet, hon…He wouldn’t…”

In a sudden, single striking movement, Godric had rolled over her, pinning her down by the wrists. His muscled body was impossibly firm, immeasurably strong.

“He wouldn’t what?” he hissed.

She took inhaled as slowly as possible, not daring to move lest she further rattle his prey drive. “He wouldn’t want to be left out.”

He dipped down and took in her scent deeply from the crook of her neck. It made his mouth water.

“Would he stop me if he was?” he whispered huskily.

“I…you should…we…” she squeaked.

Kneeling over her like this, he looked every bit the trickster demon – savage and masculine. He bent down millimeters from her mouth.

“Such wicked things we could do in the dark, Lily…would you want him to stop me?” The words ghosted over her lips like the promise of a kiss. She let out a little gasp and closed her eyes. She couldn’t stop her body’s reaction and she knew it was only making him wilder by the second. Within the bond a feral, dangerous heat ricocheted between them.

“Lillian,” his voice was thick and seductive. “Tell me now. Would you.. _want…_ me to stop?”

Her heart was pounding in her throat and there was no ignoring the throbbing wetness building between her legs. God help her treacherous, desirous body.

“It’s your blood…” she tried to squeak.

“Shhhtsk, tsk, tsk. The blood, my beautiful girl, doesn’t change your emotions. You know that.” Godric pulled her by the left wrist and flipped her over onto her stomach. He ran his hands up her arms and pressed himself against her, only the thinnest veil of fabric keeping them apart. Sliding the neckline of her t-shirt down over her shoulder, he planted a soft kiss on the bare skin he’d revealed. Then, pushing her hair to the side, he kissed the spot on her neck she’d revealed was ticklish. He let his fangs drag over it, sending shivers to her most intimate parts. Her resolve was rapidly melting away under his touch.

Laying down so that he was now between her and Eric, he rested his head next to hers, their noses nearly touching.

“I need to tell you something.” He licked his lips.

She had no idea what was going to come out of his mouth. His end of the bond was completely indecipherable.

“Okay,” she said hoarsely.

He softed her long mane of hair down her back and started rubbing little circles on her bared shoulder. For a long moment he focused on this little act, almost mesmerized.

“It is unnatural to be apart from one’s bonded.”

“Okay. I’m right here. You’ve got me.” She decided to risk moving and reached for his hand.

He looked at her and sucked at his teeth, trying to find the right words.

“I need you.”

“I’m here for you.”

“I need you in every possible way. I’m desperate for you. That is what being bonded to you makes me feel.”

“Desperate?”

“Desperate…” he whispered. The word made her clench between the legs. He leaned forward and kissed her gently at first, then with more fire.

Abruptly, he let go and in a blur was on the far side of Eric. He stroked his cheek and his arm several times, trying to get him to wake, then rapidly whispered something inaudible into his ear. A devilish smile crossed Eric’s face and his eyes shot open. Godric rumbled in a low growl and caressed the length of Eric’s chest, letting his nails bite into his flesh. Eric let out a growl himself. If he hadn’t been awake before, he was now. Good god, they were both going, eyes fixed upon the quivering, aroused human next to them. Lillian lay there completely unsure of what was about to happen. What did she even want to happen!?

Godric pulled at the sheets and raised an eyebrow at her. He drew them back further and gaped his mouth open in feigned shock, making her blush. Then he pulled them off entirely, revealing all of Eric’s delicious physique. He lay there splayed out like a profane marble statue wearing only a saucy, fanged grin.

Godric casually rose and sat down in one of the chairs by the little sitting area in the corner of the room.

He cocked his head and smiled. “Why don’t you please him?”

Lillian hesitated, her heart racing, eyes wide. Eric bit his bottom lip and gave her a pleading look.

“Yeah?” she asked him in confirmation. He blinked slowly and nodded in encouragement. She kissed him and ran her hands over his preposterously gorgeous body, then sat back on her ankles and looked at the Celt.

“Go on.”

“You like watching,” she said.

He merely smiled mysteriously and shrugged.

She forged a trail of kisses down Eric’s chest and belly, then cupped his hefty balls, making his shaft bounce. She teased the tip of him before taking as much of his length into her mouth as she could. He took an unnecessary breath, but didn’t cry out.

“Faster,” Godric ordered.

Eric gasped and grabbed the iron railing of the headboard, taking in sharp breaths. His eyes were locked with Lillian’s. He tore at the fitted bedsheet, shredding it. She was relentless.

Suddenly, Godric was at her shoulder with a hand, stilling her movement, stopping her from obliterating the Viking. He wove a chilly arm around her belly from behind and pulled her close, tugging at the hem of her shirt.

“Eric wants me to take this off. And I want to take it off. Will you permit me?”

“Eric?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

“Seriously. You’re okay with this?” she asked incredulously. Another vigorous yes.

“So what, you’re not going to talk at all?”

He shook his head no.

Godric chuckled deeply into the back of her shoulder and nipped it bluntly. “He can’t talk, darling, and he can’t touch, unless told otherwise.”

“Oh?” she inquired, half turning to him.

“Yes, and I can only say and do what he tells me to do through our bond, and even then only if you agree, otherwise it nulls the maker’s command I’ve just placed on him. Those are the rules.”

“Is that so?” she said with genuine shock. “And what are my rules?”

“Your rule,” he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear, “…is that there are no more rules,” making her weak in the knees.

Lillian tried to sort herself out and cleared her throat. “So if I want to, say, go have a sandwich and tell you two to dream on, then fine?”

Eric nodded, grinning.

“He says ‘But you won’t.'”

She felt Godric’s fingers trace the tender skin of her belly as he ran a possessive hand over her throat.

“Eric, what do you want from this?”

“No, Lila. Tell  _us_  what  _you_  want, goddess. We are yours.” So strange, hearing Eric’s words through Godric’s mouth.

“He’s pushing a memory at me. It’s dark and you’re at the Treehouse. ‘Be careful what you wish for’ he says. Something about…hmm…about ‘drop dead gorgeous warrior king sex gods’? Am I getting that right!?”

Lillian threw her head back and laughed. These two ancient men were waiting with bated breath for her attention, prostrate for whatever gifts she might offer them. It was an exhilarating, deeply empowering realization. Her demons, indeed! Clever, cunning, wicked vampires – using a maker’s command to bind each other so that she was in control. She wondered which one of them cooked up this idea, or whether they had planned this together.

What took hold of Lillian next, she couldn’t say. Flying leaps, no?

She raised her arms, letting Godric slide the shirt slowly, tantalizingly slowly, over her skin, leaving a burning trail of sensations.

Eric could have wept at the sight of her gorgeous body shadowed by his maker’s. The bonds between all three were saturated, ablaze with an all-consuming passion.

“Hmm,” Lillian wondered aloud, weaving behind Godric’s back, letting her fingers trace the curve of his inked collarbone. Her fiery touch elicited a moan from him.

“You said you were hungry, Godric?”

“Yes,” he swallowed instinctively.

“You told me you like my blood full of  _pleasure_.” She whispered hotly at his back.

“Yes,” he gasped, throwing his head back, begging old gods to give him the will to keep still. She licked the dark serpent inked between his shoulders up to the base of his neck and bit him there. He cried out in a lost language, grabbing hold of his own wrists, biceps flexing hard.

“Lover…!” Eric shouted quickly, lunging forward. Godric was forcing him to explain – immediately.

“You’re playing with fire. Gods…Even  _he_  has a limit! Please…”

“Oh yeah?” She walked around him saucily as though possessed, dragging a sharp fingernail across his flesh, over his hard nipples. She was surprised to see him shiver.

“Please, what? What does Godric  _need_?” She spoke to him as he had to her, teasing him with her lips just barely over his mouth.”

He was panting in ragged breaths.

She kissed him lightly, leaving him shaking. He was nearly crushing his own wrists to stay in place.

 _Calm,_ she pushed at him.  _Restraint._

“Restraint my dead ass! Lillian, you should silver me. Silver me if you’re going to play with me like this! It’s safer!” he begged. Eric was poised to dash out to find the necessary equipment.

“Never,” she whispered, stroking his handsome face in the dim glow of the room. She licked the length of a long fang, testing to see if he responded as Eric did.

“Ahhh!” he moaned.

 _Make YOU come with a kiss_ she thought at him darkly, enjoying her revenge for toying with her as he had.

“You fiend,” he hissed at her.

Eric snapped at him and pointed in warning. That slip nearly voided his command on Eric. Neither wanted to stop their game.

“Fiend, is it?” Lillian raised an eyebrow. She bit her lip and let a hand snake under the waistband of his boxer briefs. She couldn’t help her curiosity. “Oh, my!” she gasped, genuinely shocked at his girth. “My, my, my!… _And mine_ …!” she growled at him. “Namecalling will get you nowhere, Celt. For that you have to let Eric loose.” She turned her back to him and leaned against his chest, not releasing her hold on his very hard member. Godric moaned in agreement and wrapped an arm around her shoulder for support as she worked him.

At his word, Eric practically pounced on Lillian, so maddeningly turned-on was he by being restrained through the invisible ligatures of his maker’s command. Shredding yet another pair of very expensive lace underwear, he knelt before her and devoured her delicious folds. The moment he curled his fingers into her, she instantly exploded.

Lillian grabbed Godric by the hair and pushed him to her neck, still pumping him hard with the other hand. He bit down, holding onto her for dear life. Her hot fluid poured over his tongue and he came in long, hard spurts with a bellow, sending them toppling backwards onto the floor.

She felt the sudden crush of cool, silken skin all around her, arms and mouths seemingly everywhere. Eric fell between her thighs, pounding her and calling out in Old Norse until they both came in a hot frenzy. The world arched and shattered into skipping pieces as Lillian felt the exquisite sting of pearlescent teeth pierce into her very essence.

Her body still suspended in rapture, Eric scooped her up and carried her back to the bed, Godric following close behind. They collapsed into a tangled pile, both kissing and caressing her, cooing words of adoration. As Godric healed the punctures on her neck, his foot found its way over Lillian’s ankle and he edged her legs apart. Then, slipping a knee over her thigh, he exposed her even more.

“Let me make love to you. I need to show you. Please.”

Eric snuggled into Lillian’s neck to watch from her perspective and waited to see what she would do. She looked at him for guidance and he kissed her in reassurance. She pulled Godric against her breast, and he pushed through her slickness in a single, firm movement, eliciting cries from them both. His technique was different from Eric’s, but had just as devastating an effect. He pulled out slowly and made her wait before thrusting hard and fast. He kept her pinned down by a wrist and held her leg down with a crooked ankle. He rode her this way for a seeming eternity, building up a coiled fire in her belly. She was out of her mind, begging him incoherently, digging her nails into Eric’s arm. He could see by the flush in her cheeks and lips that his maker had her exactly where he wanted. Finally Godric let loose, driving into her with abandon. At the last second he shoved a wrist onto Eric’s fangs, taking him down alongside them. The trinity practically crashed and drowned in a wave of pleasure. It was as if the earth itself had moved.

“This is the beginning,” she whispered.

~OOO~

Lillian jerked awake. She was staring directly into Godric’s blue-green irises.

“Well hello,” he said with the hint of a smile dancing across his face.

She swallowed, feeling parched and groggy. “Hi.”

“Sleep well?”

“Um, yeah.” She shoved the comforter off of her. It was oppressively hot and she felt sweaty against the sheets.

Godric laid a hand on her neck. It felt wonderfully cool, but the gesture was eerily familiar.

“I was dreaming,” she said, confirming it to herself out loud.

“I noticed.”

“Yeah?”

“You called out my name several times.”

She blushed deeply, a rose color spread across her complexion.

“Did I say anything else?”

“Yes. You said ‘this is the beginning.’ Then you woke.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm indeed.” He raised an eyebrow and licked his bottom lip and bit it.

“I discovered we can change the future. Nothing is certain.”

“Explain.”

“We’re doing it right now. Me saying this just changed it.”

“Ah. I see. Your dream started like this.”

She somehow managed to blush even harder than she already was. She nodded.

“And this dream…it was…nice?”

Her heart stuttered and she nodded again.

“Maybe it was just that – a nice but ordinary dream.”

She shook her head. It was just about everything but ordinary.

“Are there any other important prophetic aspects you should write down about it? I can get your notebook…”

“It’s ok. I’ll remember.”

“So you would consider it…memorable…then?” He didn’t try to hide his bemused expression.

She poked him. “Jerk! Don’t tease me.”

“My apologies.”

“In the vision…You told me it’s unnatural to be apart from your bonded.”

“I would agree with Dream Me. It is not pleasant, especially when the bond is new.”

She hesitated, unsure if she wanted to share more. “You said it made you feel needy and desperate.”

“Dream Me said this? Those exact words?”

“‘Desperate.’ You were pretty adamant about it.”

“Hmm.” He propped his head on the crook of his arm. “A vampire must master such emotions. Perhaps this Dream Godric was just trying to seduce you?”

His words sent a burning ache straight to her core. Lillian realized her underwear was soaked with her excitement.

“Oh God…” she blurted out, thinking of his super-refined senses.

“Well, I always thought the nickname came across as a bit presumptuous, but you can call me that if you really think I’ve  _earned_  it. Any reason in particular it seems…fitting…now?”

She rolled onto her back and covered her mortified face with her hands.

“What are you picking up with your vamp senses right now?” she asked, peeking through her fingers.

“Honestly?”

She nodded.

“Like you just had about five orgasms. Your blood is coursing – hypersaturated really – with all of the chemical signals that make Real Godric very, very hungry…in every way. So in a word – you smell divine.”

“If you think you can control yourself, you can have a drink.” Better to let him have it now while she was already fired up than want it when she wasn’t.

“Eric might feel left out.”

“Dream You didn’t seem too concerned about that!” She laughed, completely weirded-out by how surreal this conversation felt. It was though versions of their selves were dancing around each other spectrally, every reaction just as true and haunted by the possibility of existing given the slightest tweak upon the threads of time.

“Really? He sounds like a very bad boy. Is that how you see me, Lily?”

“I dunno. Would you really lie to me and say you felt ‘desperate’ just to get me in bed?”

“Well, I already have you in bed, so no.”

“You know what I meant!” she pinched him hard.

“C’mon now, you know I like that!” He chuckled, thoroughly charmed by her reactions to his teasing. “But no. I told you that I always want to be honest with you and I meant it.”

“So how does our bond really make you feel? You ran out on us last night before I really got to talk with you.”

Godric sighed and put an arm around her and she shifted so her head was on his chest. She traced the blue barbs of his tattooed collar with a fingertip while he thought about how to answer her. “The bond doesn’t make us feel or do anything that isn’t already part of our own personalities.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s what dreamlover said too. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

He couldn’t suppress his amusement. “Oh? What else did this dreamlover tell you?”

“Now wouldn’t you like to know! He shared quite a number of interesting things with me as a matter of fact.”

“Hm. I am feeling jealous, Lillian.”

“Well, you can hardly be jealous of yourself.”

“Sure I can, knowing that you’ve purposefully thrown off the course of events. Now I’ll never know just how you ended up so…” he nuzzled into her neck and inhaled deeply, “…riled.”

She whispered conspiratorially in his ear about how he used maker’s command. “Would that even work? Can you do that?”

She didn’t think vampires could blush, but she could have sworn in that moment that his cheeks flushed the subtlest shade of dusky rose.

“ _Go n-ithe an diabhal an cat!_ ” He swore in complete surprise. [May the devil eat the cat!]

“That’s…why, that’s incredibly sexy! I’ve never used the command quite like that before…” (But oh, had he used it…)

“You like?”

“Fuck Lillian, that’s…!”

“Oh, we did.”

“No, I meant…wait, yes? Do tell!”

A thought suddenly occurred to her. If she could throw off events, could she steer them back on course again by purposefully recreating their conditions of possibility? Or were they irretrievably lost to the shifting realities after the proverbial butterfly flapped its wings? They were cuddled in nearly the same way they were in the vision when he’d asked to make love to her.

“Can we try a little experiment? Why don’t have me right now?”

“You want me to have sex with you?…Right now?” He asked incredulously.

“Well, if you don’t want…”

“Shhh…” he stopped her words with a kiss. It was tentative at first, testing the waters to see if she would pull back. Not sensing any hesitation, he deepened it, flicking and sucking her tongue with his own, sending shivers down both of their spines. She pulled at his hair with urgency and moaned into his mouth, causing his fangs (and other parts) to ache unbearably.

She felt him rubbing her calf with his foot before it crept its way down to her ankle. He relished the feel of her hard nipples poking against her t-shirt and he pushed her arm over her head, restraining her gently by the wrist. He loved how she arched her back in this position, all stretched out. Sliding closer to her, lifted a knee over hers and pushed at the inside of her thigh, spreading her legs wide. Surely he would catch fire, he thought, such was his burning need for her. He’d been a madman last night, crazed by his desire for her. For a split second, he’d even considered trying to glamour himself in a mirror just to regain his sense of control and restraint before realizing what a disastrously bad idea that could be should it go wrong. Tonight wasn’t any easier, although at least he had anticipated it and was able to brace himself.

Finding that he’d managed to pin her down, Lillian smiled, knowing the test had worked. They’d found themselves right back along this alternate path, save for a few more articles of clothing and missing one big Viking yet to rise. Eric lay next to them still conked out with an adorable look on his face.

“Lovemaking,” she said out of nowhere.

Godric had to tear himself away from where he was licking delicate circles on her collarbone. “What?”

“Dream You didn’t ask to have sex with me. He wanted to make love.”

“Ah. Well that makes sense.”

“Hm. Does it?”

“Well, sure. I’m falling completely in love with you.”

“Oh good,” was all she needed to reply. She pulled him back to her mouth and kissed him passionately, driving him mad by sucking on his fangs and making them nick her lip, giving him a preview of his meal to come.

“Also…Real Me might have bent the truth a little. He’s not used to feeling like a wildly possessed, compulsive newborn vampire. That is what our bond…amplifies in me. Dream Me wasn’t wrong.”

“Needy and desperate?”

He let out a resounding sigh. “Needy and desperate. Captivated and enthralled. Thoroughly enchanted. Twenty-seven hundred freaking years and one bewitching woman sends me right back to square one. I feel like a young man again.”

~OOO~

The sun dipped low into the horizon, slowly releasing its death grip on Eric. His awareness began to whir into action letting consciousness creep in. The first thing that struck him about his immediate environment was the unmistakable scent of excitement – both his maker’s and Lillian’s – combined with a definite lustfulness zinging through his bonds with them. Eric also detected the tiniest trace of her blood in the air and had the creeping feeling he was being watched.

He opened his glacial blue gray eyes onto the world. Godric was sitting next to him with Lillian curled in between his legs, leaning against his chest. He had an arm draped across her shoulders and they were both staring at him, waiting for him to rise.

Eric sat up, intrigued. “Evening.”

“Hey there, sleepyhead. You’ll never guess what happened today.

“Hmmm, what’s that?”

“I’ve had the most interesting dream.”

“Have you?”

“Yes.”

“And? Was I in it?” he asked, his curiosity peaked.

“Oh yes, you most certainly were a lead star.”

“Mmm. I like where this is going.”

“I have to say, I’m still not entirely sure you’ll be up for it.”

“Not up for it? I’m  _always_ ‘up’ for ‘it,'” he grinned.

“Ha! That’s what she said,” Godric quipped, giving a wry smile.

She expected Eric to act like an immature manboy on occasion. But Godric!? “Oh for crying out loud, you two! Maybe I’ll just go get breakfast and let you two time bandits amuse each other with dick jokes.”

Eric snorted in laughter. “Okay, okay! Seriously. Did I like it in the dream?! Cause if I liked it in your dream, then I’m game…”

She gave no reply.

“Godric? Will I like it? Did she tell you?”

Lillian bit down on her cheek in a smirk, while Godric stared at him with his head tilted slightly back, eyes unfixed, lips slightly parted, tongue resting on the point of a fang in concentration. Gods, he knew that look, though it wasn’t one he’d seen in a considerably long time. He was in pure Maker Mode. Goh was sizing him up, deciding just exactly what he was going to do to him  _as his Master_.

It took him so completely by surprise that Eric’s eyes grew wide and he swore in shock. “ _Vörðr_!”

Lillian had no clue what he said. It sounded to her like “verdther!” Whatever it was, it cracked Godric up. In fact, he completely lost it. Every time he was about to get a hold of himself, he would look at the expression on Eric’s face again and it would sent him back into uncontrollable peels of laughter. He actually fell over backwards onto the bed shaking in a fit and covered his face with a pillow.

Fighting to compose himself, he wiped the blood tears streaking from the corners of his eyes and huffed. “Aaaahhh…Oooooh….Phew!….Fuck a donkey, child!…Oh my gods…Hoooo…I haven’t heard you call on your watcher spirit for protection since I turned you!”

“Well, no shit! What the deuce has gotten into you two? You’ve both got the same dark glitter in your eyes and whatever is going on in our bond makes my cock and fangs want to explode. Why do I get the distinct feeling I’m about to be eaten alive?”

“Oh trust me, when you hear what your little vixen prophetess has cooked up in her visions, you’ll be begging for it. And I  _guarantee_  you’ve never tried this one before…”

“Gods!” he gasped excitedly at the prospect. “Lila? What are you going to do to me, lover?!” He pulled her to his chest playfully, a glint of deviousness in his smile.

“Well, my bonded, that is a very good question,” she whispered, taking her Viking’s face in her hands. “There are just so  _many_  wicked things that we can do in the dark.”

“What do you have in mind!?”

Lillian looked over her shoulder to Godric.

“Eric, as your maker……”


	21. Top Ten

The trinity lay entwined, blissed-out and perfectly, wonderfully satiated.

“You mangled your bed,” Lillian laughed when she at last regained the use of her basic faculties.

Eric shrugged and reached overhead. He thumped the thick iron railing with a fist, setting it back into place as if it were no feat.

“Happens,” he said with a smile.

She sighed contentedly.

Top twenty?” Godric wondered aloud to no one in particular while he toyed with a tendril of Lillian’s hair over his lips.

“Oh definitely. Without a doubt.” Eric responded.

A shadow passed over Lillian’s brow, unsure what her lovers meant.

“Maybe top ten,” Godric proposed.

“I’m thinking top ten.”

“Yes, I agree. This is top ten.”

Lillian blanched and shot upright. “What the hell!” Her sudden sick fear tore through the bond. “I realize you’ve probably bedded thousands of people but it’s not particularly nice to remind me of that, even if you are trying to be complimentary!”

“No!” they said in unison.

They had to explain their list. It was  _The List_.

“No, Lila, it’s not that at all.”

“It’s our running count of the most remarkable, profound experiences we’ve shared in our immortality,” Godric clarified.

“It’s not some tawdry ranking of lovers! Is that what you thought?” Eric tickled the soft curves of her belly.

“Nothing merits being in our top twenty solely on the basis of sex,” Godric scoffed. “It has to be  _so_  much more than that. It has to be…”

“Life –altering,” Eric offered.

Godric nodded. “It’s when the impossible happens in an eternity where nothing really can surprise you anymore. These are the things that make it worth continuing. They must be remembered and honored.”

“To be bonded with my maker to you…to connect with and through you with our ancient blood…”

“Such intimacy,” The Celt nuzzled her.

“The sweetest ecstasy…”

“This was unforgettable. That’s what we meant.”

“It was simply Top Ten.” Eric gave her a comforting kiss.

“Good lord, you both just about gave me a heart attack there!” Lillian collapsed back into their arms.

While the vision she’d had of making love to them both had been damn hot, it had also given her the confidence to obey the one rule Godric had suggested she follow: no more rules. They had deviated from her dream in several (okay, let’s be honest, more than several) ways. Definitely for the better.

This had been the single most erotic night of her life. Every inch of her body felt worshiped, loved, pleasured. She was also absolutely exhausted. Eric had healed a few bites and then insisted he lick her relentlessly to yet another explosive conclusion. Afterwards she realized his saliva was doing wonders to heal her up from the wild sex. At the outset, she had been worried she wouldn’t be able to adequately please them both or couldn’t keep up. She was plenty glad to learn her worries were unfounded.

“Top Ten, huh? Well when you put it like that… What other things are on your list?”

“Eric’s turning and the first night he arose vampire, obviously.”  _And every night with my child since,_ Godric thought to himself.

“Obviously,” she replied with a smile, caressing Eric’s cheek.

“Giving the sun back to my maker.” It was the only gift remotely worthy of what Godric had given him.

“Teaching my progeny how to fly,” Godric chuckled, as if perhaps the event went a little disastrously at first.

“Finding you after…” The words seemed to catch in the back of his throat and he made a strangled sound. The bond swirled through a dizzying set of emotions.

“…after our first separation,” Godric finished for him and rested a hand on his head. There was a story there. But that was for another time.

Eric nodded solemnly, then brightened. “Introducing my maker to my child.”

“I was so proud of you,” he gushed. Godric smiled and tenderly ran a hand over Lillian’s delicate neck while Eric pasted a trail of kisses along her shoulder. “Eric and I forging this dual blood bond with you and consummating it tonight in such a glorious fashion.”

“It’s really that miraculous for you? I mean, I don’t have a top ten and this is easily number one. My life is a meaningless blink compared to yours.”

Eric heatedly spoke something in Old Norse into her ear and rubbed his nose against hers. “Lila, my bonded, my treasure…you are the most exciting thing that has happened to me since I made Pamela. But  _what_  you are to me, what you do for me, how I feel about you…” his voice trailed off as though he couldn’t put words to his emotions.

“This is a dream I would never have dared conjure for us,” said Godric.

Deep within her she felt their sentiments pulse through the bond with an unrelenting, almost violent intensity and tears involuntarily streamed from her eyes.

We humans say we know how much we love each other. We clasp our lovers close to us and press their hot skin and scent upon us. We gaze into each other’s eyes and cannot believe we are so lucky to see another react and look at us in the ways we feel and want them to feel about us. We forever declare our emotions in lofty, drawn-out speeches. In the end, however, our experience of love is a solitary one grounded only in our singular bodies. But to actually  _feel_  another’s love, to feel it directed entirely at you, within you, and to know it in your bones and in the pit of your stomach and at the top of your throat – your lovers’ swelling, crashing, asphyxiating love for you…Well, that is simply something that no words can capture.

She understood now. Lillian had lost other loved ones – that terrible ache inside came from absence and memory of someone outside of yourself. It was selfish love – you couldn’t again hear their voice, feel their touch, see their smile, give them joy. Human death and rejection is a sensual loss of stimuli from the world beyond one’s person. But to lose your blood bonded…She actually shuddered. She understood what Godric had tried in so many feeble words to explain to her. It was an unthinkable, catastrophic loss. Human love is grounded in a gap, a separation, a difference. Vampires knew no such thing. To be vampire was to close the space between self and other. The only thing a human could know that even remotely compared was to feel the kick of a child within the womb. Blood of your blood. Part of yourself.

“I understand now,” she whispered.

“Hmm?” Eric gazed at her. They could feel her confusion dissolve into revelation.

“I love you both, so, so much.” She didn’t know how such a thing was possible and she didn’t care to ponder it further because it simply  _was_. They were each unique and beautiful and precious. “You are mine as I am yours. Body, blood, and soul.”

“Body, blood, and soul,” Godric repeated. Eric blinked slowly in agreement.

No one spoke for the longest time. They simply clung to each other as if they were holding on to the moment itself.

 _Let it never end_ , she thought.

♦♦♦

Close to dawn Lillian’s human needs were screaming at her. They’d spent the entire night in bed and she was absolutely ravenous. Her stomach protested and Eric was all too happy to have yet another way to satisfy her.

Within seconds he reappeared with a tray loaded full of plates and bowls and packages from kitchen. Several of his choices made her laugh out loud.

She picked up a box of couscous. “Hon, this has to be cooked first!”

“Oh,” he laughed. Godric just rolled his eyes. Rather ironic, since he wouldn’t have known better a few years ago either.

Eric tried to take the other box he’d grabbed, assuming the similar packaging indicated that it was also inedible without further treatment. She snatched it back.

“Crackers? You literally love me so much you’d let me eat crackers in bed!?”

“Explain.” Normally he’d take haughty pride in his ignorance of what breathers consumed, but it agitated him to have his lack of knowledge pointed out. She felt his agitation, too.

“They are crumbly and always leave little bits everywhere, no matter how carefully you try to eat them. Eating crackers in bed is like a recipe for discomfort, so it’s a colloquialism some folks have. As in ‘that girl is so hot I’d let her eat crackers in bed.'”

Eric laughed. “I see. Yes, then. You may eat crackers in my bed.”

“Proceed with caution, Lillian. You’re talking to the man who on many occasions happily risked his undead life to sleep in a bed rather than in the ground where a vampire properly should.”

“Eric!”

“What!? It’s not my fault Godric is a savage! Yes, it’s safer, but Odin’s beard it’s fucking unpleasant when it’s unnecessary.”

Lillian dug into the random array of food and was munching away happily when she remembered something.

“Oh by the way, Goh” she said with a mouth full, “did I tell you Eric tried to give me a car befitting James Bond?”

“Not surprising. How do you think we ended up with the G6? Just take it. He’s relentless when he wants something.”

“He  _gave_  you that jet? Jesus, I thought it was a charter!”

Godric snorted. “Eric? Borrow something?! You have been made aware that he’s a Viking, right?”

“What was the occasion?”

“You mean the excuse? I’m sure in reality he saw a picture of in the Sky magazine and ordered it on a whim. He tried passing it off with some noise about my restaurant’s success.”

“Lies! I resent that. I giveth, I can damn sure taketh away.”

“Eric Northman, you name me one time you’ve ever taken back a gift to me.” They were all a bit giddy and silly by now. She loved seeing the two so unfiltered and at ease.

“The Shere Khan?”

“That was one of our tall ships,” Godric explained to her. “And no, you didn’t take it back. You sank it on purpose rather than give it to that pirate bastard of a Dutchman.”

“Okay. How about the chateau in Provence?”

“You know damn well the Jacobins would have laid siege to it if we hadn’t left. Abandoning is not un-gifting.”

“Fuck. No, wait! Wait, wait, wait. The entirety of Venice’s courtesans! I…”

“Lillian, plug your ears.” He turned back to his progeny. “Eric, please. That hardly counts. Having your way with all of them before I got home doesn’t count if we’d already ravaged most of them twice over before you even gotten the idea of setting up a bacchanal for me. That’s deciding to keep a gift before you gave it.”

“That should count!”

“It doesn’t.”

“Fuck!”

“Mmmhmmm. Just admit that you are an unrepentant, compulsive gift giver who does not understand the concept of ostentation.”

Eric broke out in a cheeky grin from ear to ear and they all descended into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.


	22. When in Rome

“God damn it, Compton! You have to be one of the stupidest vampires I’ve ever met.” Pam knelt down to the handcuffed man and made a quick series of twists with the delicate titanium tools in her latex gloved hands. Within seconds she heard a telltale click. She got the second cuff to release in even less time.

“Shall I do the honors?”

Bill grumbled a muffled ‘yes’ and she ripped the silver cuffs off rougher than necessary, taking a substantial bit of flesh with them. He screamed – a most rewarding sound for Pam considering how greatly his shenanigans had inconvenienced her. She shook off the offensive matter and pocketed them. She may very well decide to lock him right back up once they had moved to a secure location.

Following Pam up the stairwell, Bill was slightly taken aback by the bloody carnage they encountered walking through the were pack’s warehouse. It was a gruesome scene. The cement floor was littered with the wreckage of shredded and mismatched parts and there was so much blood sprayed across every surface it was hard not to slip.

When they got outside, he looked around in confusion. “Where’s the rest of your extraction team, Pam?”

“You’re looking at your ‘extraction team,’ you idiot.”

“Where’s Eric?”

She snorted in laughter. “Where’s Eric, your ladyship, you mean. You don’t seriously believe that Eric will ever lift a finger again to help you after you openly threatened his maker and their bonded, do you?”

If he was pale from the silvering and starvation, he had blanched to an even paler shade now. Had Pam single-handedly just taken out what looked from the remains to be about five or six weres? With no weapon but her fangs and bare hands? He’d heard the commotion and it had lasted no more than a minute. If so, the diminutive blond was frighteningly lethal for her age – and she was a mere 17 years older than him. But what was this? The revelation that she was now a regent had his head spinning. And that last bit? Well, she clearly must have misspoken or was purposefully trying to confuse him!

“I humbly thank you for your aid and I congratulate you on your new position, your ladyship. What area has the benefit of your wise stewardship?”

 _Asslicker_ , she thought and rolled her eyes.

“The ground beneath your mendacious little feet, Billy boy. So you had better start talking and talking fast.”

“I see. I deeply regret if I have caused you or your kin any offense, Lady Ravenscroft. I was not aware at the time I approached Godric’s human that she had been claimed, or I would never have approached her thusly. I will pay an appropriate fine if it would ease your mind.”

“Not Godric’s human. Godric  _and_  Eric’s human. Pay attention when your betters are speaking to you.” It may have only been a few days, but she had taken to being a sovereign like a duck to water. Of course, she’d learned the finer points of being an unwieldy, high-handed regent from the great master himself – her maker. “They have entered into a double blood bond and she has been formally claimed. You fucked up big time, Bambi.”

They reached the dark SUV hidden well out of sight just off the road. He smelled another were and two familiar vampires.

“Alcide, Bill Compton. Bill, this is our were diplomat Alcide Herveaux. Now get in and shut up. Sigebert and Wybert, you’re on cleanup. Leave no trace of the bodies and torch the building. Work fast.” Bill swallowed hard. Pamela had the Berts at her disposal and she left them as what? Backup? Clean-up crew? Talk about overstating the point. He seriously hoped she was helping him on behalf of Sophie-Anne or else he might not make it through tonight alive.

“Your ladyship, should we make it look like an accident?” one of the twins asked.

“No. Six weres suddenly missing and a burnt building? It won’t matter, they’ll immediately suspect us of foul play.” More like fun play. She was enjoying how strong the recent infusion of Eric’s blood had her feeling. She was also enjoying the stupid look on Compton’s face as he tried to puzzle out his own dire situation. It was unfortunate that a more peaceable agreement couldn’t be reached, as this would be yet another escalation in what was looking more and more like beginning a full-out supe war, but their attempt to broker some sort of deal was doomed right from the start. The packmaster had no intention of discussing a détente and from the outset he was skeptical of the lone wolf the vampire had brought as a mediator. Needless to say, it had been a short meeting.

Pam glared at Compton in the rear view mirror and started the vehicle.

The car was deadly silent save for the sounds of Alcide’s breathing and occasional fidgeting. Bill wondered whether Alcide were similarly in trouble for failing to negotiate a deal with the Minnesota pack. His large, hulking figure did nothing to calm Bill. It was a tense 15 minutes before they saw an orange glow begin to brighten above the horizon of the pine forest. Before long the Berts were back and they were headed towards downtown Duluth.

Squished uncomfortably in the backseat between the Were and Sigebert, Bill tried to answer Pam’s questions as satisfactorily as possible.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Did your maker feed you dead blood as a newborn or what? Why are you here and how did you get caught?”

“I…I came of my own accord! I had hoped to reach across the table, so to speak, and garner some agreement with the pack. I thought perhaps Sophie-Anne would reward me.”

“With what?”

“A higher position. Presently, I am but a procurer.”

“No, presently you are in deep shit and live at my discretion alone. You thought she’d support your claim over the territory. Wanting to advance yourself to such a station without the knowledge of your regent? That smacks of treason, Bilbo. Sophie-Anne will not be pleased.”

“I swear! I merely thought I could advance our kind’s cause and gain the favor of my queen!”

“How could you allow yourself to be bested by a few dogs? You’ve done nothing but besmirch the word vampire. Pathetic.”

“They swarmed at me! Please, your majesty, have mercy!”

“Mercy? Sorry, my maker must have forgotten to teach me that one.”

~OOO~

Eric was stretched out on the couch reading an old, leather bound book. He was scouring one of his journals for details about the last supe war he’d been involved in. Contrary to popular belief, though it was true their memories had near perfect recollection, a vampire’s perspective could evolve and it was useful to look back at how he’d framed events at the time. It wasn’t long after he’d been turned that Godric encouraged him to keep a diary of sorts (after he taught him to read and write, of course). He suspected it was because his making had been a profound, life-changing event for Godric himself. The near feral Celt known as Death was slowly transforming as he instructed his progeny. As he worked tirelessly to strip off Eric’s humanity layer by layer to ensure his survival, his child’s hesitation and resistance to certain ideas drew him back into the world in a way he had not been for a very, very long time.

Eric was so ensconced in his old writings that he didn’t register that the house phone line was ringing. In the kitchen, Lillian was doing damage control on yet another massive pile of Godric’s dirty pots and pans. She figured since he went through the trouble of playing personal chef for her, she could at least clean up the aftermath. Every time he set foot in there he somehow managed to make a colossal disaster of things.

The persistent ringing phone was grating on her nerves. She wasn’t sure whether she should answer it, but finally she wiped her hands off on a dishtowel and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Well, hello cupcake.”

“Pamela! It’s so good to hear from you. How are things?”

“As expected. I take it you’ve been enjoying yourself?”

Lillian turned beet red. Of course Pam would know when Eric was happy and pleasured. He had been both lately. A lot.

“Uh, you could say that.”

She cackled. “Good. Where is he?”

“He should be here, hold on.”

She found him in the living room, fixated on a crumbling manuscript. He was splayed out and barefoot, clad in only jeans, with his long hair swooped messily over to one side. She simply loved seeing him like this – relaxed in his own space, his usual public façade of authority and fearsomeness momentarily let down.

“Eric?”

“Hmm…”

“Phone.”

“Huh?”

“It’s Pam.”

“Oh. Sorry, I was concentrating.” He took the handset. “Hello my lovely regent. What’s the word?”

Lillian glanced at the book he’d set down. She didn’t recognize the script whatsoever. It almost looked like cuneiform, but some of the characters were decidedly more like Sanskrit whilst others were runic. What the hell was she looking at?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Eric groaned. “Lila, get Goh?” She had to admit he was trying. That nearly sounded like a request rather than an order.

“Sure, lover.”

Outside the sliding glass door, she called to Godric from the balcony. Down below, his hard body slipped effortlessly through the water in the lap pool. He swirled onto his back, the moon and floodlights glistening on his beautiful, wet form. She had no idea how in the hell she’d gotten so lucky. She had the affection and attentions of not one but two of the most exquisite beings she’d ever encountered. If you’d asked her a couple months ago, she would have laughed and said such a thing was impossible. She was out of her mind in love with them, each so singular and unique, yet so complementary. If karma existed, she must have done some seriously good things in a former life to deserve these two.

“Eric’s on the phone with Pam. It doesn’t sound good.”

In a single, graceful movement, he jumped out of the pool and when she blinked, he was suddenly right in front of her, dripping wet and looking good enough to eat. He planted a searing kiss on her mouth and sauntered through the hall to Eric.

“I’m putting you on speaker. Go on.”

“The Pack has no interest in diplomacy – something about an oil pipeline and disrupted elk herd migration. They’ve lost their hunting grounds in the north and they’re pissed, plus you were right about Greysolon. Their folklore includes a story where they trick of wolf killer into becoming a ‘pale demon.’ Eric, they will not negotiate. I also had to take out six wolves to free Compton. He claims he took it upon himself to try and broker peace for a reward, but I’m still working on him. Do you want me to kill him?”

“No, let’s re-evaluate once you’re done with him. We need to keep Sophie-Anne happy. What about the rest of your subjects?”

“I’ve already had to deliver the true death to two of Greysolon’s children. They were unmanageable. As far as I have assessed, there’s not a single vampire in the area over 50, maybe 60 years old, and most are newborns. It’s chaos.”

“You’ve issued an edict?”

“Yes. All but the original missing younglings are now within the compound on lockdown.”

“And the human police?” Eric pressed.

“I’ve already begun a glamouring campaign to close down the missing persons investigations, but I need a few more reliable people to help with the work. The Dakotas can’t spare anyone, but Chicago  _finally_  returned my call last night. Michael promises to send some people. He sounded relieved that we’re taking control of the situation.”

This was one point that still angered Godric. “What’s his excuse for doing nothing?”

He and the Italian vampire had briefly crossed paths in Rome (when ‘Michael’ was better known as the master painter Michaelangelo da Caravaggio), but they fell out badly over his involvement in the Counter-Reformation. Just as well. Though it tickled Godric to no end to pose for Christian paintings – he very much enjoyed knowing popes and nuns were gazing adoringly at the face of an undead monster and not John the Baptist – he always preferred Van Dyck’s portrayal of him better. Plus, Michael really was an argumentative, bellicose asshole.

 

“Michael claimed to have too much on his plate at the moment. That’s where a good half of the population here has gone for the time being.”

“And you believe this?” Godric inquired, partly to test her.

“Of course not, Grandsire. It is a half truth. What do you suspect?”

“He’s being a selfish shit. Tell me, was he with anyone?”

“I heard others in the background, but I do not know who.”

Godric was instantly on his cell phone and pacing down the hall.

 _Dang,_ Lillian thought,  _he makes even the simple towel around his waist look good._

Staring after the hard white curve of the terry cloth wrapped across his butt, she suddenly had that funny, constricted feeling in her vision and an image of a ship cutting through high, rolling seas popped into her head. It was all she saw and she had no idea what it meant.

Eric and Pam continued discussing the matters at hand. He expressed disappointment that Alcide hadn’t been more useful, but he wouldn’t punish him for what wasn’t his fault. Of course he wouldn’t release him from his debt, either. Pam openly wondered whether it did not make sense to kill Greysolon’s hoard of progeny, but Eric thought such a massacre would lead to political blowback.

Lillian wasn’t sure whether it was her place to interrupt, but a thought occurred to her. “Can’t you start something similar to a foster care program? Pair up the younglings with older, more responsible vampires?”

“It is Greysolon’s responsibility to raise his progeny and his alone. We don’t run into this problem very often!”

Eric knitted his brow. It was a good idea, but it would go over with Godric like a lead balloon. He didn’t share Lillian’s 21st century liberal sensibilities in quite the same way. “Pam, she might be onto something if – and that’s a big if – it is done correctly and under the strictest of vetting process. Evaluate each of the youngling’s talents, include anything of note, however mundane. Find out what they like to do or what types of work they might be interested in. Perhaps we can offer them out if they can be of use and we can find good matches.”

“But he hasn’t released any of them! I know I wouldn’t take on some wild, untrained child still tethered to their maker, let alone turn my back on one.”

“It’s like fostering a puppy,” Lillian tried to explain. “Sometimes people like to try out being a dog owner without the hard commitment of it and they get the benefit of the companionship and the satisfaction of being an alpha whilst knowing the dog will go on its way in due time. Sometimes they even want to keep it permanently.”

Pam found her analogy preposterously funny. “I’ll be sure to share that will Alcide. He’ll love it!”

Eric cut her hysterics off. Lillian’s last point was exactly where the problem lay. “We’ll draw up contracts laying out their rights and duties in no uncertain terms. I’ll talk to Cataliades. He should be able to outline the legal conditions for such an arrangement – the hard limits of the foster maker’s authority over the foster progeny, the extent to which they can be legally held responsible for the child’s actions, very careful delimitation of the child’s service requirements to the foster maker, etcetera. It will work as a short term solution, as long as Greysolon doesn’t try calling them for aid.” He hadn’t thus far, thank the gods. Apart from his extremely weakened state in his makeshift jail, Eric assumed he was only calling to his eldest children and his maker. What use could his army of unskilled idiot children be?

As they were wrapping up the call, they heard Godric’s voice raise in the other sitting room. He rarely spoke much above a whisper. The undeniable power that emanated from his tone was palpable in the house. It crackled through the air like an enveloping static electricity. Lillian actually felt herself cower.

“Amadeo, do not even  _consider_  attempting to lie to me!” he seethed. “You tell that useless Milanese dreg to get his cock out of you and his ass out of bed and start doing his job before I drag him out and teach him a thing or two about honoring one’s duties. Am I understood?!”

There was a pause.

“You speak to me like that ever again and your life is forfeit, ” he hissed. “You both have been warned. I will not repeat myself.” Click.

Eric leaned back over the phone. “Get all that Pam? Amadeo is shacked up again with Michael. Those two idiots are the literal definition of ‘dicking around.'”

“Roger that, master. I’ll confirm when Michael sends his people.” she replied from the other end of the line. He told her to be in touch and hung up.

Godric calmly sat back down like nothing had ever happened.

“Uh, dare I even ask?” Lillian wondered.

Eric tried to appease her curiosity by obliquely stating that Godric had a “complicated” relationship with Italy and its inhabitants.

“I’ll say.” There was something very significant in his past that they both carefully danced around. She didn’t harp on it, yet she also felt at any moment she’d say the wrong thing or ask the wrong question and upset him – like the night she’d mistakenly asked about his maker. Italian civilization had probably barely gotten off the ground when Godric was turned, but it made her wonder if there was a connection.

“Amadeo is a troublemaker and a fool. I’d have ended him long ago if I’d known what a pain in the ass he’d become. See, Eric? This is again why mercy is useless to a vampire; spare someone today and he’ll turn on you tomorrow. Now he’s amassed too many friends in high places for me to simply kill him on a whim and I wish neither to spend time or energy plotting the death of such an insignificant blip of a vampire.” Lillian raised her eyebrows. He was positively venomous towards this fellow. Angry Godric – and she sensed this annoyance was barely the tip of the iceberg – was one scary enemy.

“Who is Michael?”

“All you need to know is that he’s now the regent of Greater Chicagoland, which in reality includes Wisconsin and a good chunk of Illinois.”

“I don’t know why you all don’t just use the U.S. state lines. Wouldn’t that simplify things?” She was trying to distract him so he could calm down. Eric’s amusement sung freely across their bond.

“My dear, they are lines drawn on maps and chosen through human land grant deeds and such. Old world vampires began migrating to North America at the same time as the humans. Our boundaries fell according to our histories, not theirs.”

“I see. Was there not vampirism here before?”

“Indeed, there was. There were few places it hadn’t reached, even back then.”

That was unfortunate to hear. “So you colonized the Native Americans, too. They got screwed as both humans and vampires.”

“Not at all. Quite a few still rule their territories. It was very young vampires who wished to escape Europe where the power structures have long been firmly established and they were under constant scrutiny. It was an exciting time for many and they were happy to live more freely. Many of the leaders here were far more egalitarian towards their subjects that the iron fists that ruled the old world. A few even lived openly among humans – their beliefs about the otherworldly and the interdependence of all things accommodated a place for vampires to exist. But then the European humans really began to expand west. The world is wont to change rapidly sometimes.”

“Hmm. Speaking of expansion, I had a vision of a ship. A big wooden ship with a high, curling bow that cut across the high seas.”

“Viking?” Eric perked up, curling a long leg under him in excitement.

“I think so. It had a stunning white sail in a diamond pattern and all the shields and oars. Didn’t Leif Erikson find North America at the turn of the first millennium?”

“Yes,” they answered in unison.

“Eric…uh…that wasn’t you or a…a human son…by any chance, was it?”

He laughed heartily. “No, lover, that was a different Eric’s son. Vampires don’t know all the famous people or only do legendary things.” He ignored the old familiar dull pang as he thought involuntarily of his eldest boy, Thorson. “Besides, that family was a bunch of murdering pirates. They lacked fame and honor, each and every one.”

“Meaning?”

“Leif Ericson was Eric the Red’s son, a renowned and unrepentant murderer as was his father before him. They only discovered new lands because they were unwelcome everywhere else.” He laughed again. “But that was when, Goðrìk?” Just thinking about those times, he lapsed into his Norse accent. She realized this was more accurately reflected where the nickname “Goh” derived. The beautiful name rolling of his tongue sounded like ‘Goh-dther-eek,’ not the harsh ‘Gawd-rick’ way American English speakers made it sound.

“You were just rounding your 250th birthday. We were…”

“In Normandy.”

“Yes.”

“Slowly working our way south.”

A little frown curled at just the edge of Godric’s mouth.

“Gosh, so wait. If Leif Erikson was landing on the American coast around 1000AD and you were already 250…” The quick math surprised her. “What the hell! You both always round your ages down! You were turned around 750 AD and Godric a thousand years or so before that, right? 750BC!?” The sheer expanse of time was stupefying.

“Probably about right.”

“That is so crazy. What were you doing then in Normandy?” She was trying to be tactful, but it was difficult to keep it reigned in.

“Lily, I can honestly say it’s a long story.”

She reached over from her place on the couch to stroke Godric’s leg. “It’s only ever a long story with the two of you. I’m sorry, I’m being nosy. I’ll shut up.”

Eric was about to change the subject, but Godric held a hand up and sighed in resignation.

“Godric…” Eric growled in warning.

Whether it was Lillian’s persistence or part of her power, they were unsure, but she drew secrets out of people in a way he’d rarely witnessed. She simply made people want to confide in her.

“In a nutshell? I  _despised_  the Romans. Republic, Empire. It didn’t matter.” He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The air around her vibrated with that crackling energy again. Even Eric stiffened next to her.

“For a good chunk of my early life I made it a bit of… a hobby to… help… _sack_ …Roma…on a regular basis.”

Suddenly a list of names sprung to mind – the Celts and the Gauls, then the Vandals followed by the Ostrogoths, the Visigoths, and finally…

“The Normans…” she blurted out. The Normans sacked Rome in a notoriously brutal fashion in 1084. The city burned for days and many people died or fled.

He nodded.

“Oh my god.” was all she said.

Then she said something that utterly took him by surprise.

“So, were you also in on the sacking in 1500s?”

He cocked his head at her, taken aback by her casual acceptance of his deadly nature. “You are a very singular human being, my bonded.”

“You said you ‘helped sack,’ not that you sacked or led sieges. You always choose your words precisely, which means you were always on the other team’s side. They were resisting Roman imperial domination in one form or another.” She paused, not sure if she dared say it out loud. “You wanted to undermine their authority.”

Eric gave his maker a wary look, but he continued. “Indeed. The Romans were a scourge to the peoples of the world in those days. They sought only to dominate and bend others to their use in a way I had not seen before, not even under Alexander the Great’s expansion. Then the spread of Christianity happened and it got even worse.”

“Be thankful it did or I wouldn’t be sitting here,” Eric pointed out, trying to make himself the center of attention. “He came to my neck of the woods to get away from it.”

“You must have been really fucking bummed out by global capitalism.”

Godric let out a weak laugh. “We saw it coming. Why do you think Eric’s so absurdly rich? But to answer your question, no, my sacking days were done after that last one. I was a maker by then and I could not risk Eric in my silly vendettas.”

“He got hurt, didn’t he.”

“Yes, very severely.”

“Dummy,” she teased, trying not to think about a world without Eric Northman. The very thought suffocated her.

Ever the warrior, Eric shrugged. “Everything Godric did back then taught me something critical. He’s still lecturing me. I resisted at first…”

“For about two seconds,” Godric added.

“I recall I stood my ground longer than that. But yes, I quickly realized there was a lesson to be learned in everything he showed me or forced me to do. ‘Twas but a scratch,'” he chuckled, citing the old Monty Python sketch where a soldier makes light of catastrophic wounds.

“Oh god! You lost a limb?!”

“On the money as usual, Professor. Those were a shitty few months.”

“Lily,” Godric wanted to steer their conversation away from his dark past and consider their future. “What do you think the ship means?”

“I don’t know. It was the ship that came.”

The two vampires looked at each other.

“You’re positive it was Viking?” Eric wondered. “The sail sounds right. The diamond pattern would have been stronger for long distance sea-faring.”

“Yeah. I’ve seen pictures of the boat in Oslo. It had the same bow and stern.”

Godric pointed out that it was significant that she understood her vision as being in the past.

“Am I just getting an echo? Or is this something from the past that is important for the future?”

“My guess is the latter,” the Celt offered.

Lillian chewed her cheek and pondered it. “I can’t explain how I know, but the ship was sailing toward me, as in America.”

“I didn’t come to the Americas until much later. Godric? You knew they existed.”

“Wait, what? How? Why didn’t you tell anyone?!”

“I can fly, remember? I didn’t tell because I had no relationship with humans to speak of and it’s better to not interfere too much with human culture.”

“Says the one that sacked Rome every 100 years.”

“Touché, ma chere. But think of it this way: we try not to cause stampedes among our cattle.

“Nice, Godric. Really fucking nice.”

Eric gave his maker a strained stare. Here he was trying to keep shifting the focus of this dangerously meandering conversation towards himself, towards anything other than where it kept going, and Godric was dropping not so subtle invitations towards  _that_. He shuddered.

“The simple fact is that if our food moves out, we have to move too. If elders start relocating permanently our territories get messed up. Wars break out. Vampires die. I get called in to fix everybody’s shit. It gets exhausting. That’s why so few elders moved out of Europe in the 16th century.”

“ _Min alskäre_ , your vision? Let’s focus on that.”

“Jeez, I dunno. Did Leif Ericson get turned?”

“No. As far as I know, I’m the only undead Viking man left. There are a couple women still knocking around. You should think about your dream more symbolically anyways.”

“Well why does it matter than Vikings came to North Ameri…oh. Oh!” She hit her forehead with her palm. “They were in Canada!”

“That’s where these weres are coming from.”

“Exactly! Silly me. The Vikings came and met with the first peoples, lived among them more or less peacefully, right? They remember Greysolon in their myths, maybe they also remember the tall blond people. Or a vampire that lived along the Canadian coastline then? You and that vampire must be the ones to go to negotiate with the wolves, they might just listen to you. The ship that came…must come again.”

“They probably aren’t even descended from the same groups of people – the distance between the Atlantic coast and the Great Lakes area is pretty massive, Lily.”

“Master is right. Plus Greysolon’s interaction with them was much more recently. I doubt there’s any oral tradition of the Vikings left, if ever they even had one.”

“Okay, well maybe that is even better. Hell, you can lie. Say you  _were_ here back then. Make it up, but show them that you care about their problems. Show them that vampires care just as much as they do about territorial stability…”

The words hung in her mouth and suddenly the odd pieces of their discussion knit together. She furrowed her brow.

“Oh my god! That’s it,” she whispered, almost involuntarily. She turned to Godric, her eyes wide. “You weren’t so interested in sticking it to the Roman humans. You were trying to destabilize the Roman  _vampire_ territory by running the humans out!”

Before she could recognize the sickening wave of every horrific and terrifying emotion in existence crash down on their blood bond, a large white hand clapped over her mouth before she could say any more. Eric spun her around hard to face him and he growled and was shaking violently at the same time.

In tremendous fear, it is strange the details one can fixate upon. Lillian realized Eric had instinctively started breathing. He was breathing so hard his nostrils were flaring.

“ _NO_ ,” was all he managed to snarl at her. “No,” he repeated.

Lillian was nearly about to faint, vomit, or both. What the fuck had she done?! Her shoulders were clapped in Eric’s iron grip so she awkwardly twisted back her head to see Godric. He sat, unmoving, staring down at his folded hands with heavy lidded eyes fringed in those long, dark lashes.

“Why must you push? Why, Lila? ” Eric demanded incoherently. “War with weres and fucking ancient mad vampires and you push! You push and you push and you push! WHY!?” He shook her hard with each word.

“Your strength, Eric! Release her.” Eric threw his hands up in the air.

“Master…”

“Eric, it’s okay. She is our bonded. I want to tell her.”

Eric spat out a stream of furious Swedish then shoved a long thick, threatening finger in her face. His balled fist was trembling and his razor sharp fangs were fully drawn down.

“You will listen to him and you will not speak. You will not interrupt. You will not ask questions. And you will never bring this up again. NEVER. Am I clear?”

She nodded vigorously through her silent sobbing. She was still too stunned and physically ill from the sick emotions tearing through the blood bond to even speak.”

“You will obey me or I will kill you.”

“Eric!” Godric yelled at him, pulling his volatile child back from the fragile human. He struggled forward and got within inches of her face. “And you will fix the fucking mess you’ve made of him when it is done.”

With that, he wretched out of Godric’s grasp, sped out to the balcony, and shot off into the night sky.


	23. The Shape of My Heart

_He deals the cards as a meditation_  
And those he plays never suspect  
He doesn’t play for the money he wins  
He doesn’t play for respect

_He deals the cards to find the answer_   
_The sacred geometry of chance_   
_The hidden laws of a probable outcome_   
_The numbers lead a dance_

_I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier_   
_I know that the clubs are weapons of war_   
_I know that diamonds mean money for this art_   
_But that’s not the shape of my heart_

_He may play the Jack of diamonds_   
_He may lay the Queen of spades_   
_He may conceal a King in his hand_   
_While the memory of it fades_

_-Sting, Ten Summoner’s Tales_

 

Lillian collapsed down onto her knees, her body wracked with sobs.

“Scandinavians always were a little overly dramatic,” Godric said to the void where Eric had been just seconds before.

He looked down at the frail little human woman and scooped her up in his arms. He didn’t want to do this here. He needed to be in his own space at the Treehouse. Without another word he took the same path out into the night sky as his child had, mindful to move more slowly lest he distress his lover any more.

The summer breeze whipping over her skin was a soothing balm. The revolting, creeping, hateful feelings coming from the bond were dissipating somewhat. More than anything she was left with a sickened, hollow pit in her stomach, mingled with disgust and a tinge of guilt. Godric landed soundlessly on the eve of the roof before dropping down onto the front doorstep. The house was dark inside and the woods creaked and swayed around them as if in greeting.

Godric set her gingerly on the couch. He looked in hesitation at the fireplace but quickly decided to light a few candles for lighting instead. It was August now in Louisiana and he wasn’t sure the air conditioning could keep it cool enough for Lillian’s comfort if he built a fire. She was slumped there, an unmoving sack of flour, not daring to speak a word after Eric’s threat. It should be comforting to be back in this home, but her mind was busy with other thoughts.

“I’m going to fix you a cup of tea, okay? Earl Grey or Jasmine?”

Fat tears of shame rolled down her cheek. The last thing on the face of the planet that she’d wanted to do was upset either of her bonded lovers or ruffle their own connection to each other. She’d lasted what? Three days? Pathetic.

“Hmm, Lily? What will it be?”

No response.

 _Answer me_ , he commanded firmly.

“Jasmine,” she whispered in a voice inaudible to anyone but a supernatural.

He clinked and banged around in the kitchen for a few minutes, then returned with a nice steaming mug for her.

“I assume you can tell the difference between Eric and I on your end of the bond?”

Of course she could.

“Then you know that a lot more of what you just felt was coming from him rather than me. He is vampire, Lily. We are extremely possessive and Eric…he is loyal to me beyond measure and protective of me beyond the pale of reason. If I asked him, he would kill his own child for me. He would kill himself before harming me. You must understand this.”

She cast her eyes down, unwilling to look at him.

“You share in our bond now and you sense more than you probably even realize you do. You know when we’re being evasive or cagey. There is no point in keeping this from you, but I fear what it will do to your opinion of me.”

 _Please. NO,_ she begged him silently.

“Speak to me out loud.”

_Don’t share. Lie._

He laughed bitterly. “I promised never to lie to you. You would make a liar of me now?”

“I don’t care. I don’t need to know. I am so sorry!” she croaked.

“What’s done is done. We are formed by our journeys, good and bad.”

“Surely you could have just told me flat out that there are certain topics we don’t speak about in this family? I would have respected that. But instead you let me stumble around anxious that I’ll accidentally say the wrong thing! Now I have and you feel obligated to relive whatever awful traumas you’ve experienced because of my stupid curiosity and big god damned mouth?! No. Just. No, Godric! I don’t even care.”

He looked at her curiously. This family. Our family. He liked how that sounded. She could be so much like Eric at times – angry that she couldn’t protect him from life; resentful that she was helpless to change a past that wasn’t hers.

“My darling. It is simple. You do care and you want to know. I’ve never felt someone blood bond the way you did.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” she snuffled.

“When we were in the exchange, it felt like you were pushing at me, surrendering everything of yourself over to me. That was incredibly erotic and wonderful. But at the same time, you were gently sifting through all my thoughts and memories and trying to gather them up like a million grains of sand.”

“Yeah? I only noticed the unending ecstasy…”

He laughed softly. “It was certainly that. A mind as old as mine can process the full spectrum of the experience. Multi-task, if you will. It took an effort to dam off the things I didn’t want you to sense – all the nasty stuff. Your soul instinctively wanted to dig at it though, gather all of me up and hold me, as though you wanted to bear all of my burdens and cherish everything in between.”

“I would if I could.”

“I know. You are very special.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I know better than you.”

She huffed in aggravation.

“Now, listen. What I am about to tell you only a handful of beings know. I want to tell you and I shall, but I also want to protect you because this sort of information carries a certain…risk…for all of us.”

He wanted something from her. “What’s the catch?”

“When I am done, will you give me permission to put a slight compulsion on you? Just enough so that someone couldn’t forcibly extract it from you to harm us.”

“You want to glamour me.”

“No, far more subtle than that. I want you to remember, to be able to think about it when and as you want. But lock up the information so that you can’t think of it under duress or ever speak of it without a safe word of sorts. You’re a human that needs to keep a vampire secret like a vampire. Our lives depend on it.”

“It’s that bad?”

“It’s worse.”

She considered this. He was offering her 2700 years of survival in his trust.

“Ragnarok,” she said in a low whisper.

“The end of the world?”

“Our password.”

He nodded solemnly, then ran a hand over his mouth as if trying to find the beginning of a thread without ends.

For several minutes Godric paced about the spacious living room of the Treehouse, pausing here and there to stare out the large glass walls of the compound toward the eerie quiet of the forest. A loathsome anxiety settled across the bond between he and Lillian. It was laced with ice-cold hate and loss and determination from his end. She could feel Godric ramping himself up, then balking, only to steady himself once more. Eric must have gone far from Shreveport. She could only feel the fine mist of his anger hanging in the background.

He sighed deeply and began his tale.

“In two great crimes I was born…and by two great crimes I was freed. Of these four trespasses, no deeds are considered worse among our kind. To most, they are so heinous that they are simply unimaginable. To the ones of us that remember…” He faltered slightly, searching for the right words.

“Those who remember such cruelties fear those capable of such treachery more than the true death itself. To say they have become infamous legends would be to glorify the depraved. It is heretical, what I am about to say. I am that heresy.

 

**♦ I **♦****

 

Few memories stand out from my human days. I do not know precisely when I was born, though in retrospect it must have probably been sometime in the 7th century or perhaps the 6th century BC. I know that I was raised in the thick forests of Britain among what we today would call proto-Celtish peoples. It was a small clan and I was destined in their eyes to become the priest of their sacred grove, the most respected and influential role in such communities. I could not have been much more than twenty when I was preparing to take the cloak of the Druid priesthood. My body had grown hard and muscled but still had that sinewy quality men of more advanced years fill out. You will also remember I was betrothed, but the marriage would not be carried out until I was ordained and fit to lead our people. There were many preparations to be made in order to be granted the title and though it was mine by blood right, I could still fail the trials. Ultimately I would fail, but not for reasons I could ever have supposed.

My elders had spoken of several sacred trees and rocks where I should make offerings to our old gods and spirits. They had to be timed according to auspicious astrological aspects. I no longer recall the first two precisely, as it was the last and final sacrifice that I would never forget. I had given magic gifts of water and earth. All that remained was the offering of blood and fire. For this I had chosen the most ancient tree in the wood. It was brisk out – the fall equinox. But then again it was always colder in Britain in those days. I brought no torch as the moon was out in full and I carried only a shallow bowl, a flint and knife, and a jackrabbit strung over my shoulder. I should have been frightened to be alone in the woods, but I loved them. They towered over me and rustled and creaked secret things to me. I was Goðrìk, the ruler of these gods. Or so I thought.

I made my way to the great old oak. Such trees, Lillian, they no longer grace this world. It was as thick as a sequoia but gnarled and twisted with low hanging-branches. I’ve often wondered its age, but alas, such things are lost to us now. I quickly went through the paces of my task, fluffing a bit of tinder and catching a spark to it. There were incantations to be recited and then the blood magic to be done. As I prayed I became distracted by the owls calling ominously overhead and the groaning whispers of the forest. They grew louder and I became frantic to finish my mission, lest I leave it incomplete. There was a cracking, crunching noise within the great tree and I blundered as I went to slice the rabbit’s neck into the fire of the offering bowl. Instead of cutting the hare’s throat I accidentally slit my own wrist. The earth exploded around me and before I knew what was happening, there were hard, claw-like hands around me and I was dragged underground.

A demon god slumbered within the tree and my nearness and blood had awakened its thirst. Deep in the pitch black of the hollow, he drained me until the point of death. I remember the damp, earthy scent and the stifling, acrid air; the piercing burn of his fangs into me over and over again. I begged him incoherently until I could no longer speak. After a time he fed me something cool and sweet and I healed, only for him to drain me again. And again. Then at the edge of life and death, he dug me out and tossed my limp body onto the forest floor. I never saw his face. He spoke not a single word to me. I did not know his name. It was near dawn and though I did not understand it, I was a newborn vampire.

I soon felt the extreme panic the rising sun ignites in the bones of the undead. I did the only thing I knew. I ran home. Instinct wholly took over and I buried myself into the packed earth under the bed I shared with my siblings. When the sun’s rays finally released me from their clutches, I rose. You do not need me to explain what happened next, only tell you that it did. My kin, my neighbors, the priests…the entire village…everyone was dead by the night’s end.”

Godric paused, seeing the fear flicker in Lillian’s eyes. He sucked in a ragged breathe, knowing there was no stopping now.

“I became my own sacrifice that final night as a human and the only blood magic made then was that of the blood tie between maker and child. Except I had no maker and I was no one’s child. I was born in the treachery of abandonment and I would roam as a thing known as Death. I knew only the pleasures of my instincts and I indulged in every horrific whim an unrestrained, feral vampire might. Bards, heralds, skalds and scops alike recounted the terrifying deeds of such creatures of the night. Only they didn’t feature beasts  _like_  me – many of these grim tales were actually stories  _about_ me.”

Godric closed his eyes and shuddered.

“I was an animal, only worse. Animals die and fall sick. I could not. But animals also fall prey to other animals and this, my bonded, is exactly what happened.”

 

****♦** II  **♦****

 

He could feel her question burning silently.

“Of course I tried to find my maker. I could not know, but our blood bond was not right. It was damaged and closed off. Some of my wandering in those first decades was in pursuit of him, moments when I thought I sensed a glimmer of his presence. But alas, it was not I that would find him in the end, but another on my behalf.

Little did I know that I was being hunted by my own kind in the first century or so that I roamed. I was lost so deeply in a permanent bloodlust that I was barely conscious of myself, let alone the trackers that tried to keep up with my erratic, bizarre movements. There were laws in our world. My maker had broken them and I was a freakish testament to that fact.

Finally, somewhere in the foothills of the Italian Alps I broke my leg in an avalanche and was pinned in a crevasse. It wasn’t serious, truly, but it detained me long enough that I was captured at long last. I had never known the burn of a silver net until then, but the memory of that first touch will never leave me. The two vampires who caught me spoke in a strange tongue as they carried me, bound in that scorching metal, to their master’s capital. It was Rome.

I was imprisoned for a good fortnight before they were able to find a little Celtic slave girl who could communicate with me. Even then, the language had greatly changed. Now that I had been neutralized as a threat to exposing our kind’s existence, I was treated as an amusement. They held court in a grand underground hall and brought me out in chains to snap and snarl at humans with whom they taunted me, always keeping them just out of reach. Everywhere there was opulence I had never seen and certainly had never experienced for myself. I later learned that the Roman court was actually the new seat of power in the vampire world and its leader, Appius Livius Ocella, had taken an interest in his captive from the north.”

Godric swallowed compulsively at the vile name in his mouth. It made his throat feel hot and parched, as though he suffered once again from prolonged thirst. He got a blood bag from the fridge and started drinking it cold. Lillian looked on but said nothing. When he was done, she reached for him in invitation to sit close to her, but he turned away and went back to the window.

“Appius began a program to tame the wild Celt in his basement. He starved me of blood, only feeding me when I behaved as he demanded. With no maker’s command to constrain me, he conditioned me like the animal that I was. I learned to quell my bloodlust by sheer willpower alone. This in itself was remarkable. He taught me to feed like a cultured vampire of the south – biting the necks or wrists of a meal instead of destroying the poor creatures beyond recognition. He forced me to learn Latin and to ask politely for the things I desired. Slowly, over many months, I regained consciousness and control of myself. He was not cruel in those days, but he didn’t allow me my freedom either. My unnaturalness was explained to me; the order that guided our kind had been broken and I could not be freed until it was certain I would not go off the rails again. I trusted his reassuring words when I should have seen them for the insidious lies they were, meant only to lull me into his confidence.

One evening I was summoned from my cell to Appius’ chambers. I was brought in silver cuffs, which he removed once I swore to behave. He bathed me thoroughly and beautified me, then dressed me in the finest raiment and jewels from his own chests. I thought perhaps he had decided I was safe enough to be released, that perhaps I could be part of the vampire court there, and even that we might be friends now that I was re-socialized. He responded only with laughter and stated that we were entertaining a guest.

The guest, I would learn, was also a prisoner, freshly delivered by the same trackers who had located me. The disheveled man had long, filthy black hair and was bound in thick silver chains. He would have been beautiful, save for the catatonic glaze that filmed over his piercing hazel eyes. He seemed simultaneously insane and comatose. Appius read aloud the crimes he was charged with. Much whispering and several cries of outrage broke out amongst the crowd in the receiving hall. As I was still new to Latin, the sophisticated legal jargon was more difficult to follow. But slowly I pieced together the summary of infractions and realized he was guilty of the same transgressions as my own maker. Appius then addressed him as ‘Gaël pater Godricus’ and I suddenly understood. The man before me was the vampire that had turned me.

If I could have passed out, I would have. As it was, Appius clamped a hard hand down on my arm to keep me from leaving his side. I was desperate to run to my maker, to see him, to know him, to at last be near the blood of my blood. As he sent his unfixed gaze around the room, I felt that small glimmer of recognition in the blood bond. His mind was broken and it warped our connection. Appius passed down his judgment. Gaël and I were to receive the true death. The mad vampire swayed on his knees in the center of the court and seemed to take this in. His eyes sharpened and he inhaled, focusing on me and scenting his child. For a split second, he smiled lovingly at me, then his mouth faded into a blank line and he sunk back into his dementia. Seeing this, Appius excused us, content that his gamble had worked.

Away from the prying ears of his subjects, Appius proposed an alternate solution. If Gaël would command me to Appius’ side to obey him as his child and renounce his maker’s dominion over me, then Gaël would be pardoned outright and I would live. Appius Livius Ocella dared to supplant one heinous crime with an even greater one.

You can imagine, perhaps, what happened next. Over the next several nights, Gaël and I were imprisoned and tortured together. We could not see each other, but as the vile business played out, it dawned on me that this was the only experience I had ever shared where I could feel my maker. The pain brought Gaël back into this world. It was the first time I’d felt his emotions through the bond, be they incoherent pain and misery. At last, somewhere in the convoluted fog of his mind, he agreed to Appius’ terms. He spoke those terrible words and…”

Godric gasped, almost as though he were asphyxiating.

“I…I had never known the paralyzing power of a maker’s command before, never felt his will clap down over my own, sheering off any desire to disobey even the most vile of requests. He ordered me to follow Appius in all his commands and to respond and respect him as though he had turned me himself. Then he released me from further fealty to him and fled, never once looking back. Thus I traded one unnatural life for another. In the first I had no maker to guide me, in the second I had a master who was not a maker.”

Tears streamed down Lillian’s face and she couldn’t help hiccuping as she cried for Godric. It was too terrible. Nothing was of his own doing and yet she knew he blamed himself for every horrid thing he’d ever done because of it. It sickened her to know so much of his tale still remained.

“You must understand, Lillian, while we do not have human empathy, there is something akin to it between maker and child. Makers and progeny certainly are not prevented from doing awful things to each other, as I have just demonstrated. But even a vampire gifted with masterful control over their blood bonds cannot avoid experiencing some of the effects they cause in their other half and vice versa. It maintains a kind of hard limit of boundaries between the two. Every time I’ve punished Eric, for example, it has been punishment on me. I must endure his pain, his emotions, his cries for my help going unanswered. He can simultaneously sense how it distresses me and he is reassured that I do not mete out harsh reprimands lightly. Fortunately or unfortunately for him, he has a maker who has learned how to suffer, so he’s been pushed not just to the limits I know  _he_  can take, but the ones I myself know can be survived. I always hoped it would make him stronger in the long run and for the most he’s part taken it like a champ.

Another case of how this informs a maker-child relationship is Eric and Pam’s spectacularly awful attempt at a sex life, which is, I think, one of the more ironic and better things that could have happened to my child in being a maker. Pam needs to be in total control to feel safe and pleasured; Eric usually wants to feel his lover submit to his ministrations. He gets off on being the provider. Even if Eric resorted to commanding her to perform as he wished, she’d still feel violated in being dominated. Interestingly enough, the one thing you cannot command is a child’s emotions. Since Eric is disgusted at the thought of taking anyone against their will, let alone feeling Pam experience him that way, they can’t help but cause each other to feel terrible. Thus they are ideal friends and thick as thieves without all the complications that sex can introduce.

Now, from the perspective of the progeny, it is impossible to defy a maker’s command. You can try, but it is pointless. There is also an ingrained inability to physically harm your maker, since you are blood of their blood. It’s sickening to even ponder it. Everything in a vampire’s being demands that the blood is sacred and must be protected. At the same time, however, the blood of one’s maker is also the most intoxicating, fulfilling blood that you will ever in your eternity taste. That is why children cannot bite their creators, except under the most exceptional circumstances initiated by the maker alone. You’ll recall that Eric has only ever fed from me in your presence when I’ve cut myself for him.”

Lillian nodded, remembering Eric’s reaction to Godric’s blood. To say he’d been in ecstasy would be an insult. It was his nirvana.

“All of this matters, you see, because Appius was granted a maker’s command without the burden of a maker’s bond to restrain him. I do not wish to saddle you with the things he did to me. Vampire nature unleashed is madness, or perhaps it was that my maker’s madness somehow drove the instincts in my blood until Appius captured and broke me. I cannot know. He knew the sorts of things I’d done as a wild child, the kinds of grotesque trespasses any sane maker would have put an end to or prevented from the outset. Appius used me by turns as a toy, a weapon, and plenty else to boot. He buried the secret of his theft of another’s child, telling everyone he’d ended Gaël and he’d chosen to show me mercy; that by my own hand I opted to live with him. In time, he saw to it that few would be left who remembered that I was anyone else’s child but his. What began as a seemingly benevolent project to tame me became the most selfish and reprehensible of experiments. With me at his side, Appius was able to rule over much of the ancient vampire world.

 

****♦** III  **♦**  
**

 

Godric had to stop there. He fetched another blood bag, this time taking the time to heat it through and make another cup of tea for Lillian. He needed a few minutes to collect himself, to focus on the next turn in the story lest he lose himself in the cacophony of destruction and death that threatened to well up and blind him to everything that truly mattered.

 _Focus. Strength. Love._ He felt Eric steady him from afar. He had a suspicion about where Eric had rocketed off to, but he’d confirm it later. Godric returned the favor with a burst of crippling happiness elicited by thinking about a moment the other night when Eric, their bonded, and he came together in an earth-shattering orgasmic crescendo of epic proportions. His cock began to swell just remembering it. He sensed Eric’s surprise and then felt a complicit laughter tinkling through their connection.

Feeling slightly more balanced, he joined Lillian on the couch and she gave a relieved look that he was once again accepting of her proximity.

“So, where were we? Ah, yes. Lily, when you bond with us you sense our emotions, feel impressions of memories, can even understand the gist of our thoughts. It’s all a bit hazy for you, no?

What I am about to tell you is one of the most closely guarded secrets in our family, as it is the source of our unusually strong powers. We regularly do full blood bond exchanges with our progeny, or ‘little makings’ as we’ve come to call them. This is something none of our kind would be willing or capable of doing properly. It requires the extraordinary ability to use the blood bond to manipulate your child into biting and draining you, then taking back the blood and so on. Often gifts and occasionally singularly unique talents will transfer and manifest not long after such events. It has also, we’ve found, generally strengthened the progeny well beyond what one would expect for their age.”

He paused to sip his blood and then he chewed nervously at his cheek.

“My decision to do these little makings with Eric was complex and dependent on his ongoing wish to continue them. Perhaps you will understand my motivations further into the story. Suffice it to say that exploring the powers of the maker’s bond and cultivating its positive aspects became something very important to me. There is really only one drawback to blood exchanges, if you can call it that, and it is why all makers limit the frequency with which they indulge their children with their blood. We are intensely secretive, as you well know, and even small blood exchanges creates a moment of transparency. Among unrelated vampires the connection is more like yours – blurry and convoluted. It’s mostly done to heighten erotic pleasures, but it can also be used to extract information if done skillfully. Between kin, however, it opens the floodgates to the very core of their being. During the exchange there is total sight, complete recognition, and trust beyond measure. Outside of the exchange, the regular bond is intensified and refined, making our communication clearer. So many wondrous things can come of it.

You can perhaps see the conflict emerging here. Over the many occasions in the millennium I’ve renewed my blood bond with Eric, he’s seen virtually everything I’ve known and done. I have tried to protect him from it, to lock it away, but in the end there is not much that he hasn’t experienced through my eyes. Only, his understanding of my experiences is always filtered through his own. In some ways, I think living my past was easier than his experience of it through blood exchanges. I had no choice in the matter. Eric? He cannot comprehend being without a choice. I…I think that is why I had to turn him. I couldn’t bear the idea that death would finally bend his will. The moment I chose him, I also inadvertently chose myself over Death, the creature I had become. But, alas, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Now you hopefully understand. This is the source of Eric’s terrifying reaction to your perfectly innocent and astute questions. That is why he threatened you so. I am sorry he did, for none of it is his fault. He cannot control my past and he despises what he cannot control. He only fears what makes him weak and he sees anything that harms the ones he loves as a threat to himself. When he reacted, it was out of pure and simple fear and love, though he’ll never admit it to being so. He is afraid of how my darkness can and has haunted me. He was frightened at how all this would upset you too and, more pragmatically, how it expands your vulnerability as a human. There are a lot of dangerous and powerful secrets to hide. So much of it comes from our knowledge and ability to use our bloodline and harvest its strengths. But of course, I would discover these mysteries entirely by chance.

Shall I continue?”

Lillian nodded and curled up against his chest. It was the oddest sensation, but she felt comforted. She thought at first it was Godric or Eric’s doing, silently pushing emotions into her, but it was coming from within her own heart. This was it. There was more left, but she could tell just by Godric’s demeanor that the worst had already been brought to light. It was gruesome and excruciating, but it was Godric’s journey and he had travelled so far. Eric was right. He must truly be the most evolved being alive.

“My discovery began some two centuries after living at Appius’ side. He had become increasingly bold in his willingness to send me off on missions. At no moment did I take these incremental freedoms for granted and I was extraordinarily cautious to follow his orders to the letter and demonstrate my trustworthiness. Unrelated vampires can only form very weak temporary bonds, so he couldn’t rely on being able to find me if I tried to run. Without the power of a maker’s call, he had developed more and more elaborate maker’s commands. They were nuanced enough for me to do his bidding and firm enough that I would always come back. There was some genius to it, I’ll admit, and it’s one of the only useful talents I learned from him.

On one such mission, I ended up in southern Italy on a task when I met a fairly young vampire. He was barely fifty years into immortality and he was handsome and very learned. His name was Tarquin and I was more than a bit smitten with him. You could tell he had been turned later in life but his maker had shown some skill and restraint. I was very surprised to learn that his maker had drawn out the turning process and in doing so dramatically counteracted much of his age. Think of it as the best cosmetic surgery and dermatology possible. I filed this information away.

Tarquin became a good friend, the first in my undead life. We bonded over his hatred of Roman authority. He had been exiled as a human and unfortunately the vampire community had not embraced him there either. Appius made it clear in no uncertain terms that he was to keep away from court and maintain a low profile. Over the coming years, we developed a system to meet in secrecy when I was out at my master’s behest. It was in this way that he helped me with a little project I’d been carefully mapping out.

Of course, Appius had long ago commanded me to never reveal the truth of my origins, so I only told Tarquin what I could. That there was a mad vampire named Gaël somewhere out there whom I would very much like to contact. In his stupidity and vanity, Appius never thought to specifically tell me not to go after my true maker, only because he himself found him so wholly repulsive. He fancied himself a very powerful and magnanimous person. Like any great abuser, he explained away cruelties as necessities – he saw them as other people forcing his hand. He couldn’t fathom that I would rather be anywhere but by his side, though his colorful violence toward me was driven by precisely that subconscious fear.

It took great effort, but eventually Tarquin succeeded. I cannot capture with words the joy I experienced at hearing this, nor can I explain the crashing desolation I succumbed to upon learning that his dementia had grown far worse. Gaël was lost within himself in complete hibernation; undead but dead. A nest of Gaulish Spaniards had taken him in and kindly provided him blood every so often, but there was no waking him. There would be no magic words spoken to free me from my unnatural master as I had long dreamed. There would be no miraculous reunion of maker and child where we could come to know ourselves as each other’s father, brother, son.

It unhinged me. I was so distraught that I purposefully defied Appius’ orders, killing the allies and telling secrets to the enemies. Without the blood bond, he would not know until the news travelled to him by word of mouth. Defying his command rendered me very ill, but I persisted. Tarquin aided me and together we traveled to where Gaël was located.

The little alcove in the wine cave where he lay was humid and dusty, yet he’d been cared for. His clothes were relatively neat and his skin was clean. I sent everyone away and sat for a long time with him in the yellow flickering of a few candles, not unlike these. For three hundred years I had walked the nights an immortal at this man’s doing, yet I hardly knew the sound of his voice or the feel of his hands. I found myself combing out his silky black hair and caressing the fine peaks and valleys of his face, his arms, his torso. Every fiber of my being needed to know him and memorize him. In his descent into oblivion our bond had severed completely, yet in touching his velvety skin my blood knew its own. It was a comfort unlike I’d ever known. I studied him intently for hours, pleading in our old language for him to wake. I tore my wrists open, hoping that my blood would stir him as it did the night he made me. But it did not. Nothing I did mattered, no amount of begging or berating or blood could make him rouse. It broke me at last. I felt the last bit of my hope shatter.

Beyond desperate to find a way to escape Appius and set ablaze with an uncontrollable desire to save my maker from his hellish fate, what I did next defies reason, nature, god… It is sacrilege by any name, heresy in any moral code. It could never have happened if I had not been such a fractured, warped creature myself, split unnaturally between a maker and a master. I am certain no child has ever before or since done what I chose to do.”

A solitary tear escaped from the corner of Godric’s eye and streamed a glossy crimson trail down the inner curve of his cheek. Lillian reached up and wiped it off with her middle finger, then fed it back to him. She buried her face in the coolness of his neck and breathed slowly, focusing on the love and companionship they shared and flooding their connection with it, though he had long since muted his own end. After a long silence, Godric inhaled and let the breath out, along with his darkest confession.

“I killed my own maker.”

He stilled completely and fell into downtime as he contemplated the deed. Lillian lay quietly against him, intent on allowing him as much time as he needed. Finally, he took another measured breath and continued.

“I embraced him as he had once embraced me and I sunk my fangs into the tender, sweet flesh of his neck and I drank. I drank and drank until I thought I’d vomit and then I swallowed more. He was a larger man than I, so it took some doing. Surprisingly, his blood counteracted the sickness I suffered from defying my other master’s commands. It would do much more than that, I would later learn.

Draining him slowly, so intimately, the blood of my blood…It is the single-most decadent and depraved thing I have ever done. I felt like I was burning in the sun and being possessed by the gods at the same time. I drained him to the point of death. Without warning, our bond flickered alive like a single harsh bulb, buzzing and blinding to senses unused to its light. He stirred suddenly in my arms. I pulled back in horror, realizing I’d defiled my maker in an unspeakable violation. His eyes focused on me momentarily. Then closing them, he pulled me to him, forcing me back into our deadly embrace. He wanted me to do it. He was asking me to end him. As I dragged the final, agonizing mouthfuls of blood from him, he whispered the only words he ever shared with me through our telepathic bond. He said ‘Thank you, my child.’ Then in that instant I felt the light of my maker’s blood and life explode into darkness around me.”

The grey cashmere of Godric’s sweater darkened as it absorbed the salty tears pouring from Lillian. She cried more freely and with greater pathos and abandon than she ever had for anyone. She wailed in mourning, gasping as she let out long, punctuated cries of pure anguish into his shoulder. His experiences were heartbreaking. It was true was he had said – if she could gather it all up and bear his burdens for him, she would do it without a second thought.

Humans often like to pretend that moral choices are clearly defined, that before us lay two paths, one right, the other wrong. The profound truth that concentrated and connected each thread of Godric’s life was that living itself was fraught with an irreducible moral ambiguity. Had Gaël made him in such a careless, unloving manner because he was unwell or did he somehow hope that ultimately Godric might be his salvation? Should the mad maker be punished for his transgressions and betrayals or given reprieve in a crime that would alter his child forever? None of it can be resolved. It was simply an arcane and unknowable geometry of chance. This was the messiness of a life fully lived and Lillian could not begrudge him that one iota.

Godric found himself cradling his bonded to him, amazed that a human would care so deeply, let alone at all, for the monster in her arms. She cried as though her tears could heal him and cleanse his undead heart. Unable to resist, he found himself licking them off her face and stroking her hair, cooing sweet words to calm her as much as himself.

“Shh, my love. It is done.” He pressed soft kisses over her face. “Shhh, now. It was long, long ago.”

Lillian got up to blow her nose and pull herself together. They were almost through it now. The tale was nearly told. She fell back into Godric’s open arms for the final chapter.

 

 

****♦** IV  **♦****

 

“When I emerged from the wine cave to find Tarquin in the house above, the vampires in his company sensed immediately something had happened. I explained quietly that I had done as my ‘friend’ had asked and put him to rest. It was more than that, they protested. There was some terrifying new aura about me; I radiated some kind of dark power. Plus, I was covered in Gaël’s ash as though he had gone into the sun. It was most inexplicable. They demanded to know what had transpired. When I realized I could not tell them, or more precisely, realized that Gaël’s death had not released Appius’ command over me, I panicked. It was distasteful, but I killed the three vampires that had so generously cared for my maker. No one could know. Tarquin said nothing. He helped me hide the evidence and we washed in a nearby stream.

I begged Tarquin to leave me, knowing that I was a marked man. Was it true about my aura, I asked? He explained that I projected the power of an ancient, though he knew it could not be so. I told him then that I had drained the old madman and his eyes grew wide. We both knew draining another vampire did not turn them into ash, nor did it affect the offending vampire’s powers. Again, Tarquin did not press me with questions about the event, though I noticed he would never again refer to Appius as my maker. He merely asked me what we would do about him. We needed a plan and we needed one fast.

This was in the year 387 B.C. We made our way across the Iberian peninsula, hoping to hit upon some idea as to what we should do. Appius would know by now something had gone awry. I was unsure whether he would send another of his assassins or would prefer to capture me alive, but either way I had no intention of finding out the hard way. Obviously, if killing him was as simple as that, I would have done it long before. Appius still had a maker’s command over me. Despite the lofty Roman name he now used, he was much older than that and had the cunning and craftiness of an elder. He was also the highest authority in Europe; regents sought him out to resolve issues between kingdoms. Feared and obeyed, his death would have repercussions beyond imagination. To move against him was to move against almost every vampire of consequence. Even if he could be caught off guard, his death would never simply be a murder. It would be the death of order in the Old World.

It so happened one night that Tarquin and I stalked a small band of men for dinner. We listened to them argue about battle tactics and we noted that they were well-armed. Being far stronger than my young companion, I was about to incapacitate them first so we could leisurely drink our fill when I heard one of the men say something that stopped me dead in my tracks. They were a scouting party backed by a large standing militia and they were headed for Rome. I think I nearly fell out of the tree from which I observed them. This ragtag crew of Celts and Gauls were disgusted at the ever growing abuses of the Roman Republic and they were planning to attack the great capital with full force. How well I understood the feeling. Grooming ourselves as best as we could, we emerged from the wooded area and asked if we could share their fire.

Alas, that is how it began. Tarquin had intimate knowledge of virtually every square inch of land between the Palatine and Capitaline hills. Though it had been rebuilt and greatly expanded since his human days, he knew the Forum inside out. Hell, he himself had commissioned the great temple of Jupiter there, Capitolium. He helped design the underground sewers beneath the old city. Tarquin knew where every breathing patrician in the city ate, slept, and whored. He had a taste for them, you see, and it heightened the thrill of the hunt to know he was forbidden to enter the city’s walls. I, on the other hand, knew more about the seat of Old World vampire authority than anyone except Appius himself. I understood the politics of its court – who should be taken out first and who should be spared. I could explain the strategic weaknesses of the places where its subjects lived and died each day. If done carefully, I knew I could use the humans’ day walking against them. We would ally ourselves with these humans and they would fight, unbeknownst to them, a two-species war.

 

During the siege, vampires less invested in the area simply left when their hunting grounds were disturbed. Dangerous building fires broke out in key sites; a number of nests were burned in the daylight, killing all in their sleep. This threat weeded out the more cowardly vampires and the population dwindled. With a few lucky hits, some of the higher ranking diplomats and spies were also removed. In the fog of the human war, no one recognized the subtle, stealthy hand of a vampire guiding their movements. Regrettably, while a number of major blows were dealt to Appius’ grip on the throne in that first sacking, it did not dislodge him.

As long as my maker’s blood continued to counteract the sickness of defying my master’s command to return to him, we could proceed. It held out, though as long as Appius lived I knew I would never truly be free. Tarquin and I roamed the continent together, tacking back and forth occasionally when word reached us that this or that group was intent on throwing off the cruel yoke of the Roman Republic. After our first failed attempt, I also realized we would have to make it harder for our vampires to flee. Knowing their attachment to luxury and the power and friends money could buy, I wised up about the workings of commerce and we quietly began bleeding Appius’ court of its wealth. If only I had known the effects this would have. But I am getting ahead of myself.

In the meantime, the eerie energy that hovered about me was one of the most immediate dangers to my safety. Younglings only supposed I was very ancient, which was fine so long as they did not recognize me by name or face. But the elders could tell something was not right. I was developing powerful new gifts unparalleled by any my age; a few would be unique among our kind. There were also plenty of influential vampires roaming about who did know me from my days at court. I was wanted in Rome for the high crime of abandoning my maker, though none could understand how a child could endure the bonding sickness for so long. All that it would take to uncover the truth was an investigation into me, perhaps a forced blood exchange and a good dose of torture under the right hands. You cannot know how I feared what they might do. At one low point, I considered gathering as many of our kind together as I could find and revealing the entire, awful story. I would be killed eventually, of course, after some lengthy, unendurable torments. But it would ensure Appius was a dead man too. Tarquin, ever the strategist, convinced me such a pyrrhic victory would never deliver the hammer of justice that Appius had earned.

Try as I might, I could not cloak my power very effectively and it hampered our ability to operate efficiently, both in our everyday business and in carrying out our long-term vision. It was then that I decided to travel to Greece, where I had gotten it in my head that perhaps the famed Oracle of Delphi could give me some advice as to what to do. Stories of the Macedonian conqueror Alexander the Great were known far and wide by then. Many of his astonishing feats were attributed to the fact that he had consulted with the powerful prophetess. I needed a miracle and it felt like the oracle known as Pythia might be the last viable option. Tarquin and I argued terribly. He thought exposing my nature to a human would only lead to yet another target on my head. I promised I would be careful and cover my tracks, but he chose to go his separate way. He wanted no part in it.

I have already mentioned something of the Pythia I knew in those times. She was truly a sage and a great beauty as well. Arranging a secret, late night meeting with her had taken patience and more than a few coin satchels. I remember the shuffling sound my leather shoes made as they echoed through the airy halls of the temple. Large brass bowls of fire illuminated the central walkway and burning incense sweetened the still air. It was a remarkable place.

The night I presented myself, a handmaiden led me to a courtyard near the private chambers of the compound. She left me to wait alone for a time and I found, much to my surprise, that I was nervous. I, the vampire Death, was nervous about a human! But then, I’d barely held conversations with them, let alone seek one out for advice.

Before I could contemplate the irony of my discomfort, an arrestingly lovely woman wafted into the courtyard as though carried on a wisp of smoke itself. Her chiton, the gown of the times, was made of an exquisitely fine silk and gold the likes of which I’ve rarely ever seen. She was demurely wrapped in a crimson shawl woven in the softest lamb’s wool. Not acknowledging my presence, she knelt at the little burbling square pond near where I sat and tossed in breadcrumbs, giggling as the gold and brown fish came to swallow up her treats. Between the vision of her wrapped in that red cloth, her scent, and the act of her feeding those damnable, hungry fish, my fangs dropped hard. She looked up with her kohl-lined, liquid brown eyes and laughed at me. She laughed at me!

Without another sound, she sat next to me and caressed the blue water markings on my arm, never once reacting to the coldness of my skin. Pythia smiled, then said, ‘Nothing births a lion, but from the lion comes a lamb.’ Then she touched the runes describing my old titles and said, ‘Only greatness can beget itself.’ I cannot explain how I kept my self-control, but she loosened the strings at the opening of my shirt and ran a palm over my tattooed chest, each spike symbolizing a victory in my human life. I thought I might go mad with hunger and desire. She placed a single kiss in the hollow of my throat and whispered ‘So many great deeds yet so many left undone.’ At that, I knew immediately I had come to the right place. She took my icy hand in hers then beckoned me to follow her. Pythia had been waiting for me, she explained.

I spent several months with her studying great texts, documenting her visions of my fate, and indulging in other pleasures. She was the most delicious human I would ever taste. That is, until I met you.”

Lillian blushed, trying not to feel too jealous. It was stupid that he was talking about someone long dead in the fourth  century B.C. and she still kind of wanted to claw her eyes out given the inevitable similarities.

“I can sense your jealousy, darling. There is no comparison. I was still Death then. Like Pythia said, I was  _nothing_. When I turned Eric, our fearsome lion, would I commit myself to making a great vampire. Eric reawakened my gentler nature and only then was I able to commit myself to leading greatness by example. Everything she ever told me came true, though much of it made little sense at the time. Prophesies are like timed locks; they only open your eyes to the truth when enough of the right circumstances conjoin. Between her visions and her tutelage in the arts of war, my life started to have some semblance of a meaningful future. It gave me a tiny seed of hope and motivated me forward. But it was her parting gift to me that made the biggest difference of all. Before I left her, she gave me a little gold circle that upon closer inspection was an ouroboros, the infinity serpent like the one on my back. She told me to wear the charm on a necklace or as a ring and it would absorb the magic around me like a cloak. As long as I had it on me, no one would suspect I had imbibed the powers of my maker.

For many years I was protected by Pythia’s gifts. I awaited patiently for the right moment to strike Rome again. It came 162 years after the first siege. The Gauls were again rattling their swords in their scabbards, spoiling for a fight with their overlords. Tarquin and I teamed up once more. We carefully formed a small tactical squad of vampires by misleading them to believe we would be rescuing Appius from traitors. Together with our human armies, we came down on the capital with an unforgiving force. After five nights of chaos, we were able to breach the walls of the court. It was a brutal fight and a number of good vampires were killed that night.

My greatest concern was that somehow Appius might have slipped out past our spies and escaped. The worry nagged at me as I sliced and stabbed my way through the compound towards his private lair. When I finally reached the corridor leading to my master’s rooms, it felt like time slowed to a creep. My senses were in overdrive. Every speck of dust floating through the air agitated me. The pulsing shadows in the torch lit halls taunted me. I needed no air to live yet I felt I was suffocating.

I do not know what came over me, but I decided to sheath my sword.”

Lillian’s eyes flickered up to the display rack hanging over the fireplace. It looked funny without Grendl, but the other weapon secured there was equally beautiful. An acidic knot clenched itself in her stomach as she started to recognize what significance the short blade might hold for Godric.

“I stormed through the doors and found Appius armed and at the ready. He was truly shocked to see me and I took advantage of it. Where the lies poured from, I’ll never know. Just as his mouth was about to twist into a hateful sneer, I cried out to him, letting blood tears flow. I thanked the gods that I had found him in time. I embraced him roughly and kissed him with desperation. I explained how I had been captured by the one elder whose whereabouts I knew he had no knowledge of: my true maker. He was of sound mind once more and he was here, intent on his revenge, I explained. He would have his seat of authority. We had to flee together. He hesitated and I could tell he was preparing to charge the non-existent Gaël head on. I told him everyone was dead and that there was no one else to fight alongside him. I begged Appius to protect me as he had for so long. I told him to follow me and we would escape through the city sewers. It was his vanity that would be his undoing. Taking my hand, Appius turned to grab a satchel and run. In that split second error, I drew my blade and took his head clean from his shoulders. It was surreal. His body remained standing for a moment, our hands entwined. Then he exploded into a gelatinous mass. It was done. I was free.

Or so I thought. The effects of Appius’ murder would reverberate around the Old World for centuries like dominoes, toppling over humans and vampires alike. The humans I’d used in my plot would suffer horrendously. Over the following forty years, Rome would brutally subjugate the Celts in Spain and the Gauls in northern Italy in retaliation for the city’s sacking. Unbeknownst to us, in impoverishing the vampire court, vampires had begun siphoning wealth from the human patrician clans. The inter-familial squabbling and civil strife this ignited would weaken the Republic, allowing it to fall into Caesar’s hands. The Roman Empire would subsequently fan out across Europe in search of riches to replace what I and my kind had taken. I assure you no one on the losing end of the ‘Pax Romana’ saw it as a time of peace. But alas, this is just the human half of the story.

The death of Appius Livius Ocella plunged the vampire world into the dark ages half a millennia before the fall of the Roman Empire would do the same to humans. Civil war amongst our kind exploded. The territorial lines were drawn and redrawn through assassinations, battles, intrigues. Our relations with other supernaturals was greatly taxed. It was chaos for a great many years.

At the time, I simply watched the world burn. For centuries I prided myself on how clever I had been. I was solitary but I lived more or less in the open. I stopped wearing Pythia’s charm, boldly telling others that I was god-touched and magical. No one ever suspected that I, Goðrìk, the vampire Death, was the murderer of both my maker and my master, the one who had toppled the high court of vampire authority with a lie and the swipe of my blade. I laughed when I heard what people nicknamed the Roman gladius blade.

 _That_ ,” Godric said, pointing to the fireplace, “is quite literally the sword that conquered the world.

When the Roman emperor Theodosius shut down the Temple of Delphi, I started to reconsider my actions. Christianity was declared the Empire’s official religion and the effects of its popularity came full circle back to the supernatural world. The old knowledge was suppressed and much wisdom was destroyed. If there had been some place for our magic in the world then, it was rapidly demonized. It seemed wrong somehow, though I didn’t see the forest for the trees then. I went back to my old ways, helping the Vandals, the Visigoths, and the Ostrogoths sack Rome. But this time it was only to undermine the humans and this new monotheism. It didn’t work. Not really. Eventually I would go far into the north into Scandinavia where Christianity had not yet spread. The rest is history, as they say. Only after finding my child did I start to change, just as Pythia predicted.

I would not see my crime for what it was until long after it was done. I had escaped the bonds of oppression by unwittingly unleashing the same fate upon millions of other creatures. Conquest, domination, terror…I sent the spark that fueled a thousand fires. This was the outrageous cost of my freedom.

Eric tries to convince me such events would have probably transpired one way or another. He tells me I’m an old fool for wanting to bear the brunt of history on my shoulders. But it does not assuage my guilt. I know my part in it.

These are the four crimes that serve as the heavy bookends defining and anchoring my life. These, Lily, are the secrets that shape my undead heart.”


	24. Free Your Mind

A flash of white streaked impossibly fast across the shadow of darkness and was gone before any mortal eyes could register whether they’d really seen anything in the sky at all.  Eric was digging deep within his powers, attaining more frightening speeds than he’d ever managed.  He was up high, slicing through all but the thinnest atmosphere.  The satellites keeping constant vigil over this little planet would register him as a meteorite.  No manmade crafts could fly in this barely nonexistent air.  The paper pushers and number crunchers scurrying underground in government bunkers were used to disregarding objects at these altitudes, he reasoned, so long as he kept moving in a fairly straight arching trajectory.  The air popped suddenly around his torso as he broke the speed of sound.  Again.  In the back of his mind he knew it should scare him, but it didn’t.  It felt fucking good.  Bending the space and air around his preternatural flesh felt as angry and destructive as he did at present.  Flying wasn’t so much about willing one’s body do something as it was allowing one’s power to seethe out and reject the world around you, like trying to squeeze two magnets of the same polarity together and allowing the natural repulsion slide you through space.  He pushed harder and harder, building up the fiery friction between his body and the howling wind until his clothes began to shred and then melt from the heat.

 _Yes,_  he thought.   _Disintegrate in the face of my power, you weak, organic, corrupted things!  Die!  Only I am immortal!_

Running from a fight was one thing, but confronting Godric’s distress was an entirely different matter.  It was irrelevant that his maker had closed his end of the bond down.  Or perhaps it was precisely because he had that Eric needed to escape.  He could not bear how crippling his anxiety for his maker had grown.  Emotions are shackles, he reminded himself.

Far below his target came into view and he sent himself spiraling down like a deadly torpedo, head first, laughing like a madman the entire way.  As the earth rapidly rushed towards him he threw all of his energy at the ground to halt his descent.  The amount and length of such G-force would have exploded every blood vessel in a human’s brain.  It only disoriented him slightly, more like having a buzz, and he miscalculated his landing.  Woops!

_Crash!!!!_

The heavy body of a tall blond vampire smashed through the skylight of an elegantly appointed sitting room.  Anouk glanced up from her regency style writing desk to see her intruder, half-clad in annihilated clothing and covered in small lacerations, sprawled across the floor on a pile of glass and twisted metal.

“Eric Northman,” she said with an impish twist of amusement in her mouth.  She scratched out a few more lines of the letter she was working on before standing to welcome her uninvited guest.

Anouk’s beauty was renowned.  Pale-skinned and doe-eyed, her near black hair furled down over her shoulders in a stylish bouffant.  She had the exotic, dainty looks of a French starlette, and certainly she boasted the wardrobe and refined affectations of one.

 

“To what to I owe the pleasure?”  She took a seat on a fainting couch, her long bias cut silk peignoir pooling and cascading around her.

Eric ruffled the glass particles out of his long mane.  Looking up at the sizable hole he’d left in the roof of her Montreal apartment, he started laughing uncontrollably again.

“Good evening, my lovely Anouk.  I couldn’t possibly trouble you for a robe, could I?”  She rang a bell for her maid and asked the woman to find something for Mr. Northman to wear.

Soon they were chatting easily while Eric caught her up to speed on events in the lower 48 states.  The red satin robe fell preposterously short on him, but by the way he leaned back on the couch, legs crossed, you might have thought he was wearing a tuxedo.

“My goodness.  Such cowboys you Americans all are!  Nothing but banditry and bar brawls and shoot outs.  You shouldn’t be called regents – you’re all sheriffs in the wild west if you ask me!”

Eric snorted.  Sheriff Northman, indeed.  He pictured himself sporting a heavy revolver and a ten gallon hat.  He’d look good in a vest and badge, he decided.  He filed the thought away for its Halloween potential.

“Listen, how would you feel about a little role play?”

In a blur she was straddled across his lap, whispering hotly in French and caressing his chest.

“Oh Viking, you know you’ve kept me waiting too long!  The second I saw you smash through my window, I hoped you were coming here to take me up on my offer!”

Eric caught the petite vampire by her throat and pushed her away from his face before she could settle her lips on his.

“I was  _not_ suggesting that.”

“ _Mais non_?” she said in confusion.

“ _Non_ , Ani.”

She was crestfallen and slid off his lap.  “Then you owe me a fucking skylight.”

“But of course.  Send the bill to my day man.  Feel free to add in the cost of this dashing robe.  I think I’ll keep it.”  He fingered the delicate neckline teasingly.

Anouk growled in frustration.  “And to think I actually thought you might be here for something other than your own gain.  What do you want?”

Eric turned on the charm and drew a thumb over her pouting bottom lip.  “It’s not you, my beautiful, it really is me.  I have blood bonded with the most extraordinary woman.”

“A woman?  Not a human woman, surely!” she said incredulously.

“Yes.  She is divine.  You will love her too.”

“Too!?  You don’t actually mean…”

“Yes.”

“Shut up!”

“Godric as well.”

Anouk blinked hard in astonishment.  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  Two of the most feared and respected vampires in existence were fawning over a human woman?  What had the world come to?  Her dearest Godric, one of her closest friends and occasional lovers, was gaga for a breather?  He’d always selfishly kept his progeny from her, making one excuse or another for why she shouldn’t sleep with the blond (whose legendary bedroom talents no doubt were at least in part acquired his skillful master).  Now it seemed as though a human had taken them both off the playing field for her.

“ _Poutain_ ,” was all she could manage to get out. [Damn].

“Look, I came because I want you to do something for me.”

“What a surprise.”  Anouk got up dramatically and lit a cigarette in a long gold holder.  It was an eccentric and pointless habit.

“Come to Duluth with me to negotiate with the weres.  We’ll pretend we knew their ancestors long ago and we’ll sympathize with their territory problems.”  Eric delved into the details of his proposed ruse.

Finally, after a lengthy discussion, Anouk shrugged.  “Why should I do this thing for you?”

“It means you get to bask in my glorious presence a while longer.”

She socked him hard in the shoulder.

“Mmm.  A little to the left?  That muscle is a bit stiff after my landing.”

 ~OOO~

For a long while, Lillian and Godric simply sat in silence.  The weight of his words clung in the air.  He stared down at the floor between his knees and she watched the licking flame of one of the candles on the coffee table.

Eric was right all along, Lillian thought.  There was nothing to say to Godric’s long tale.  She didn’t need to ask any questions.  There was no need to drag this history around any more than Godric already had.  It was what it was – ancient history.  Eric might have been completely out of line threatening her, but he knew exactly what he maker needed.  Thankfully, so did she.

She stood, stretched, then took Godric by the hand and gestured for him to get up.  She grabbed the throw off the back of the couch and led him to the back door.

“What are you doing?” he asked, slightly confused by her reaction.  He’d never heard Lillian not give in to her instinct to ask a million questions.

She turned and stared him dead in the eye with a very serious look.  “I’m taking you outside under the beautiful sky tonight and I’m going to fuck the hell out of you.”

Godric didn’t try to hide his astonishment.

“But…”

“No more talking.”

“Don’t you even want to…”

“No,” she said firmly.  “I will only say this once, Godric, so listen carefully.  I am so terribly sorry for all that you have had to endure.  You already know through the bond how every bit of it made me feel…”

“I never expected human tears.”

“Exactly.  So don’t think for one second I mean this callously.  I say this because I love you and I love Eric and we need you and only want your happiness.  But have you ever considered that you might just need to get the fuck over it?”

“Excuse me?” Godric said defensively, automatically dropping fang.

Lillian smirked and tossed the blanket over her shoulder.  “Case and point.  You’re very attached to seeing yourself through the shittiest things in your life.  Maybe you need to question why you feel so threatened by the prospect of letting it all go.  What could you possibly stand to lose?”

She took both of his hands in hers.

“Those may be your worst experiences and of course they shaped you in significant ways, but you forgot to mention everything else in between, never mind all that is to come.  We all make terrible mistakes and everyone experiences betrayal one way or another.  No vampire worth his salt would live as long as you without some serious fucking baggage.  It’s awful baggage- worse than any I could have imagined.  But it’s done now.  You gain nothing by being committed to this anguish.  That’s how I see it: you’re committed to seeing yourself through the worst in your life when to only serves to eclipse all the rest.  That’s the biggest injustice yet.  Just imagine, what might your story look like if you insisted on explaining these same secrets through the best events you’ve known?  If you saw your challenges only for the opportunities they presented?  What kind of radical freedom and peace of mind might that give you?  Going forward and living your life without letting this stuff serve as the ruling sign in your fate will be your greatest victory yet.”

“Huh.”  Godric was simultaneously confounded and amazed at her thoughts.  He needed to think it over.  No one but Lillian would ever have had the gall to call him out  _quite_ like that.  Eric will be appalled, he smiled inwardly.

“I…I have never considered it like that.”

“Well, welcome to the 21st century, where the only Latin we know is ‘ _illegitimi non carborundum_ ’!  [Don’t let the bastards grind you down!]  Now come on.”

~OOO~

 Outside, cicadas rasped and peepers creaked their happy odes to the night.  The heat of the day had dissipated, leaving only a pleasant warmth and humidity.  Night-blooming jasmine was planted somewhere nearby and it perfumed the evening with its decadent scent.  Lillian spread the blanket out in the thick blades of St. Augustine grass and patted the spot at her side.  Godric spread out next to her.  She let her gaze roam hungrily over his body, then cupped his face.

“So beautiful,” she murmered.  “You are so exquisitely handsome.”

Godric’s eyes softened for the first time in hours.  She kissed him with the lightest brush of her lips and tongue, leaving him reaching up for more.  Repeating the action, she put a little more pressure into it before pulling away again.  The teasing, delicious play of their mouths soon had them gasping.  Lillian straddled him and pulled his sweater off in a single yank.  Her hands were immediately all over his chest, running over his washboard abs and tight, sexy waist.  He was good enough to eat.  The errant thought reminded her of drinking from his neck and it made her clench between the legs.  Her arousal was nearly as evident as his.  She couldn’t help but focus her kisses on his gorgeous tattoos.  Probably every bimbo that ever got this close to him did the same thing, but she could care less.  He was hers now and it was such a turn on.  She pulled off his pants, taking his underwear along with them and letting her nails drag down the length of his legs.  She licked and nibbled every inch of the V that defined his torso before taking his rock hard cock in her mouth.  He moaned and she let her free hand wander to pinch his nipples.  He loved a bit of delicious pain to heighten his pleasure.  Lillian paused, giving him a devilish smile, then sucked on two of her fingers.  She resumed working his thick shaft and started massaging his tight little ass, slipping a finger in.  Godric let out a little yelp and looked up, a single eyebrow raised in amused surprise.  Then he spread his legs wider to give her better access.

“Another?”

He nodded rapidly and she obliged.  She’d never tried this, but she’d had a sneaking suspicion he would like it.  Most men were too insecure about their bodies or their sexuality to allow it.  How silly.  Soon he was grasping at the grass, desperate to hold on to something as he felt the enormous wave build in him.  She stroked his rigid p-spot in time to the swirling motions of her tongue and she quickly had reduced him to a writhing, shaking mess.  Before long he said something incomprehensible in a long moan and clasped onto the back of her head, rocking against her as he spurted hard, over and over again.  He’d barely gone half soft before he began once more to move under her touch.

“How much time until dawn?” she asked.

“Three hours,” he said automatically.

“Then you better hold on, sweetheart.”  She stood and peeled off her clothing slowly before him.  His lips parted as he scented her, eyes dilating to take every bit of her in.  Settling down on top of him, she slid him into her wetness and rode him.  Lillian wasn’t gentle – she didn’t have to be – and he loved it.  He stroked her beautiful, swollen clit and he could feel in the bond how quickly it undid her.  Nothing was more erotic than losing yourself in the pleasure of one’s blood bonded.  As she came for the first time, she bit his neck roughly and it drove Godric wild.  He wanted to feed her again.  Fuck it.  He wanted her to practically drain him.  He wanted….

“Oh  _gods!_ ” he growled as the thought made him explode into her.  He sat up, his wanton, sexy woman wrapped around his waist.  They were both clinging to each other, trembling.  She kissed him passionately, giving him a quick minute to recover, then started riding him again.

“Lily, darling, lover…” he chanted.

“I’m not going to let you rest until you come at least three more times tonight.  Now, next time you’re going to feed.”  A dark, heated look took over and he flipped her onto her back, taking charge.

He relished the heat of her body and how receptive she was to his girthy cock.  He loved that a single, smoldering look into her eyes made her sweet pussy clench like a vise around him and cry out his name.  He drove into her with long, hard strokes, pulling out tantalizingly slowly until they were both in a complete frenzy.  Unleashing his feral side on her only heightened her excitement and his hands and mouth seemed to be everywhere.

“Mine!” he snarled, pinning her to the ground with his length and greedily pumping into her.  “Say it!” he ordered huskily, nipping the tender flesh of her earlobe.

“I’m yours!”

He worked himself in her and dragged his fangs over her exposed throat.  “Again.”

“I’m yours,” she cried out, grinding herself against him, desperate for him to continue.

“Tell me!”

“I’m yours, always!”

He abandoned himself to his dark need to possess her fully, mark her, and began moving at impossible speeds, alighting her whole body with the sort of vibration no toy could ever hope to mimic.  Sinking his fangs into her neck, Lillian lost herself in such a powerful orgasm that she nearly blacked out.  Her pleasure quickly sent Godric over the edge.

Lost in a tangle of limbs and moans, their passion played out under a canopy of stars and it was divine, just as she promised.  Only when the first mourning doves began to woo each other and the cardinals started to chirp did they stir.  Godric picked up his love with the blanket wrapped around them and carried her downstairs to his underground lair.  It was the first time they had been intimate just the two of them together and it was very special to him.

Exhausted and happy, Lillian kissed him softly and whispered, “I love you, Goðrìk, and I always will.”

“And I you, Lily…always…”

Sleep came to her quickly.  She was soon so lost in mist of busy dreams that she never felt herself being gently nudged over, nor did she feel the mattress shift with the weight of a tall body.


	25. Moon Road

The leaden fog of the sun slowly retreated from Eric’s mind, silently releasing him from its grip. He had returned from his brief mission to Montreal in the nick of time, narrowly winning the race against the first rays of dawn. Safely inside Godric’s Shreveport home, he’d found his maker and their human already curled together in a fast sleep. Making a space for himself, he wound his massive frame around them like a protective shell. Now, as he woke, Eric instantly sensed Lillian was upstairs. Godric, he could tell, was awake but lay unmoving, his back turned against him.

Eric tentatively felt out his end of the bond. He did so with the utmost care, slowly trickling open the connection with loyalty and concern. He didn’t push; he’d learned very quickly in the early years never to mentally jab at him. Prodding at Godric was akin to poking a bear with a stick; one never quite knew what might set off the feral creature in him. Tonight, however, the Celt remained utterly silent. Eric feared the worst.

He dared to nuzzle his nose further into his maker’s hair and softly inhaled. Godric smelled of blood and sex and time. (And grass and tears and jasmine tea, he noted, though these were seemingly incidental.) This scent was Eric’s anchor. It bound his universe together; it flowed through his very veins. Yet it told him nothing about what emotional turmoil might be taking place underneath it. Unable to see Godric’s face and truly afraid that his eyes might once again be haunted with the look of desolation, Eric tightened his hold on him. If only he could guard his creator from the world’s cruelties. The impassive, taut body did not even so much as twitch a muscle in response.

“Maker _…”_ Eric appealed in an almost inaudible voice. Godric’s fingers closed over his child’s. In sheer relief at the acknowledgment, Eric broke down into an impassioned plea in Old Norse. The words flowed melodically out of him until a terse little laugh erupted from the smaller vampire.

“ _Já_ ” agreed Godric.

“Yes? You see, then? How much you are needed? We are yours, maker. Only yours,” Eric rasped.

Godric let out a sigh and closed his eyes. He threaded an arm around his nervous wreck of a progeny. “I know, my child. Calm down. All is well.”

Eric’s embrace only tightened. Godric twisted easily from his iron grip and slid out of bed. Spotting an unfamiliar red satin robe on the armoire, he slipped into it and turned to model the number.

“Surely this isn’t for me…” he said, a sly smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

Eric was so dumbfounded by his easygoing manner that he couldn’t quite put words to use.

“How?” he managed to say.

Godric understood the question well enough. How was it that for once in their long history, revisiting the horrors of Godric’s past hadn’t sent him spiraling into a dark undertow of despair? When this last happened, he’d grown so depressed that he had stopped feeding and grown frighteningly self-destructive. How was he evidently  _not_ teetering on the brink of a breakdown now?

“How?” Eric demanded again.

Godric sucked at his teeth and shrugged. “The little minx sassed me and then sexed me up.”

Eric sat up sharply.

“Come again?” His maker must be confusing colloquialisms. Godric rarely made mistakes in English, but every so often…

“You heard me correctly. She listened silently to the entire gory lot of it and then she told me with the utmost respect to quote ‘get the fuck over it,’ after which she had her way with me.” He rudely jerked one hand in the air with a tongue in his cheek and held up two fingers. “She’s quite the naughty little thing.”

Eric’s mouth fell open. “You…you allowed this?”

Godric gave another enigmatic shrug. “Lily has a refreshing take on things. Maybe we’ve grown stuck in our ways.”

Eric gaped stupidly, searching for some better explanation.

“Stop looking so shocked and go apologize to her.”

“But…”

“Apologize to our bonded for threatening her life or I will teach you a lesson you will not soon forget, Eiríkr.” His soft tone barely raised, but there was no mistaking his seriousness.

Eric sneered in a lame attempt to hide behind arrogance. “I feel nostalgic, Godric. I’m almost tempted to go with Option B…”

Godric’s eyes darkened and he let out a low, menacing growl. It was all it took to get Eric scrambling out of the covers and speeding out of the bedroom.

In the kitchen, Lillian poured over her laptop. Her fingers flew over the keys as she researched yet more of the strange images she had seen in her dreams. She crunched messily at a piece of toast, sending crumbs scattering across the granite countertop. When she saw Eric in the doorway, she nearly choked. His hair was a tangled mess and his eyelids were rimmed in a darker pink than usual. He looked exhausted – and decidedly not human.

Wordlessly he flashed to her side, his face strained. He was virtually incapable of apologizing, but he did his best.

“Forgive me.” He bowed his head. Little flecks in his hair caught the overhead lighting.

“Is that glass?!” she shrieked, pulling him closer. She hadn’t noticed it when she’d risen this evening. She was surprised enough to find him in bed. “What happened to you!?”

“Oh, that? I took a shortcut through a skylight. It is of no importance. What matters is that Maker is well and for that I must thank you.”

Lillian’s mind instantly recalled the profound pain in Godric’s eyes as he divulged the deepest secrets of his past. It sent a shiver down her spine and simultaneously activated the nuanced compulsion Godric had placed on her. The strangest sense of duplicity spread through her, warm and pleasant. Not even her facial muscles could betray that she understood Eric’s reference. She simply stared blankly at Eric. It was utterly bizarre to be conscious of Godric’s revelations and yet unable to acknowledge them in any way. He had warned that it would feel odd for a human. Only a handful of vampires could produce such a powerful, subtle glamour as he had.

“I cannot say I understand your tactics, but I approve,” Eric admitted.

Godric chose that moment to wander through the living room, giving the two of them a casual glance before heading upstairs. Lillian had no idea where he’d found the frilly woman’s robe or why he was wearing it.

“I am surprised he let you take such liberties,” Eric continued.

“Well, you said to take care of him,” she shrugged.

“So I did. But it speaks volumes that he actually let you.”

Eric enveloped her in a hug and kissed the top of her head.

“Can we move on to the part where we have passionate make-up sex?”

Lillian couldn’t help but laugh, in spite of the upsetting circumstances.

“Perhaps maker will let us take care of him some more,” Eric suggested impishly.

“You can’t have your dick do all your apologizing, you know.”

“I can try,” he said and gave a megawatt smile. She pushed away from him, slapping her computer shut.

“I shouldn’t have to explain to you why death threats in a relationship are totally, completely unacceptable. I don’t care that he is your maker and it was ‘instinct’. Your instinct was wrong. Even if you think they were merely words. Words cut too.”

Eric nodded solemnly. “I know. I…I am sorry, Lila.”

She swallowed hard, extremely disturbed that she had to have this conversation with her lover.

“Consider this your one and only warning. Do it again and I’m gone.”

“Godric already promised as much.”

“What do you mean?”

Eric chewed the inside of his cheek and stared at the floor. “He would take you from me. Make me suffer from bonding sickness. When possible he prefers to punish by taking away the things one desires most. That’s how Godric rolls.”

“Well, I can’t say I disagree. I’d have him hide me where you’ll never find me if you fuck up again.”

“Understood. Am I forgiven then?”

“No, Eric. That’s not how this works. Apologies are not going to fix this. You broke my trust when you said you would hurt me to just to protect Godric from his own unresolved emotions. Prove to me that you are the honorable, good man I know you to be by never doing this again.”

“So it is time that will make things right?” A little sheepish smile broke out across his face. “I like challenges.”

Lillian took a deep breath to sooth her nerves. “Yeah, I know.”

“Will you at least tell me we can move forward? I know I made a mistake and I will do everything I can to prove myself worthy of you, lover. I swear it.”

“Alright, Viking. I believe we have an understanding.”

“That we do. Now come on, let’s go ambush Godric. I hear him in the shower,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

They found Godric already clean and toweling himself off in the spacious master bathroom. Disappointed at the prospect of showering alone, Eric begrudgingly flipped the spigot back on to rinse out the glass from his hair and remove the flecks of his own dried blood still stuck to his skin. Godric’s eyes darkened as he set his gaze on Lillian. He’d heard every word of her conversation and his lust bloomed at the way she fearlessly handled Eric. He let his towel drop to the floor.

“You and Eric have plans for me. Is that it, Lily?” he asked, stalking toward her. He took her by the arms and playfully walked her backwards into the bedroom, a look of pure mischief written across his features. “No!” she denied, laughing. Halfway across the room, he’d managed to get her naked without ever letting her go. When the edge of the bed hit the back of her knees, he pounced, flattening her out onto the cushioned mattress by pinned wrists. Hard muscled arms with azure ink caged her in on either side. “Perhaps I have designs of my own,” he breathed. Godric hitched her legs around his knees and he widened them slowly, disarming her, exposing her.

His absurdly innocent mouth – those lips drawn in a cupid’s bow that seemed never to utter a foul word – began to whisper the most daring, depraved things.

“How shall I fill you?” he asked into the curve of her ear. “I want you full of my seed,” he declared, just as his thick member slid between her thighs. She pulled him closer and nipped at his throat. He cried out, delving into the soft cleft of her body. Lillian gasped. Godric’s talented mouth and devilish words set her ablaze. He didn’t have to ask when she was going come; he felt her rising heat and heard her erratic heartrate thundering in his ears.

Godric slowed his decadent, leonine motions just long enough to bite into his wrist. “Take me, Lily. Take all of me inside you,” he demanded huskily. Her eyes widened in surprise at his offering. Her lips closed over his lifeblood and he sunk his fangs into her neck. Each pull she drew connected deep within him and he swore he felt it tug at the ancient remnants of his heart. They exploded together in a violent wail, writhing and panting and devouring each other’s bodies. Godric rocked against the aftershocks of their coupling, purring in contentment.

“I missed Round One,” Eric lamented when he stepped out of the bathroom. Godric beckoned him. Eric slid into bed and met his maker with a deep kiss.

Godric rolled so that he was perfectly sandwiched between the Lillian and Eric, his arms possessively around both. “Hnnn. This is more like it. My moonbeam,” he nuzzled Lillian, then gazed up at his progeny. “And my  _månegata_. All together now. How perfect is this?”

“‘Mona-gata’?” Lillian asked dreamily, more than a little high on vampire blood.

Eric covered his eyes, unable to conceal a look of embarrassed pride. In a thousand years, no one had ever heard his maker’s endearment for his beloved, only child. Godric gave a soft laugh.

“There’s no English equivalent,” Eric explained. “When the moon shines on the ocean, it casts a long, pale trail of light on the water. We say this is a  _månegata_. A moon road.”

“Eric is…” Godric paused. “Well, he’s the path that guides me across a sea of darkness.”

“And you are our moonbeam,” Eric added. “The only light vampires live by.”

“Oh,” was all she could say. It was so unbelievably endearing. She twined her hand in Eric’s and they stared at each other across the plain of Godric’s muscular chest. They lay back, content to bask in their tripartite bond, unwilling to let the real world creep in. Not yet, at least.

“Who’s up for Round Two?” Eric asked.


	26. True Love Waits

“Did Anouk agree to help us with the weres?” Godric casually asked when they finally resurfaced from their lovemaking.

“It took convincing,” Eric said.

“You told her the favor was for me.”

“Yes,” he admitted begrudgingly.

They reviewed logistics. Eric would meet Anouk in Minnesota tomorrow night and they, along with Alcide, would meet the packmaster to try yet again to negotiate a truce. With a little luck, the wolves would buy the story that Eric had been a friend to the pack’s ancestors. There was only one point of contention and on this matter Godric and he butted heads.

“If we turn Greysolon over to them as part of the deal, it will not fail.”

“They will execute him, Eric. Imagine if it draws his maker north? The devastation Marduk would leave in his wake would be unprecedented. No. I do not approve of this.”

“Greysolon is rotting of silver poisoning down in Metairie as we speak. He’s got to die one way or another.”

“It is a waste of life, child.”

“I vowed to kill him. His incompetence has risked us all!”

“It also brought us together.” Godric gestured at their bonded human.

Lillian had only been half listening to their debate. She was at her laptop again. Suddenly, she realized the room had gone quiet and they were both staring at her.

“What about all the humans Greysolon murdered?” she asked, closing the computer. “He turned all those people by force and left them to fend for themselves. Their families will never know what happened. That’s a hideous crime.”

Eric gloated. “She’s right.”

“Plus, it is his fault that his maker is slaughtering people all over New Orleans. Their blood is on his hands too.”

Godric paced the living room. “I do not see the justice in it. It leaves dozens of newborn vampires without a maker.”

“A maker who is a deadbeat!” Eric barked.

Godric thunked his head against the glass wall in frustration. He stared into the dark forested night, searching for some option that eluded him. “Those children are dangerous without his command. They are a danger  _with_  it. Throwing him to the dogs so soon is reckless. Unless…Do you know what is supposed to happen, Lily?”

Lillian looked away with a frown. “No,” she admitted. “I still see too many variations in the future. Everyone is moving. Everyone has designs. It’s a jumble.”

“Fine,” Eric huffed. “One way or another that motherfucking prick is going to get what he’s due.”

All too soon, Eric had to leave again. He gave his maker and Lillian quick goodbyes, poorly concealing the knot of anxiety he felt, and rocketed off into the night. Once he was gone, the mood in the house was somber.

**~OOO~**

Several nights passed. Eric called to say he and Anouk had made a tentative truce with the weres. It was a success and a great relief to everyone but Lillian. She worked silently for long stretches at a time, filling pages with sketches and notes. With so much ancient vampire blood in her body, her visions had tripled, clouding her sleep with snarling images of blood and bone. She spent her every waking moment haunted, obsessively scratching out the sequences, trying desperately to decipher them.

At first, Godric thought she was merely depressed to be apart from Eric and had thrown herself into working out the next phase of their plan. He provided her with a steady stream of jasmine tea and gave her space, occupying himself with a book. Only when she suddenly burst into tears did an ominous chill settle over him. He went to her side at once. She buried her head in his arms and a long sob escaped her.

“Lily, darling.”

“I can’t make it work.”

“Make what work?”

“The future. I can’t…every way I try it…It doesn’t work.”

He furrowed his brow. “Come. Let’s take a break from this.” Gently, he pulled her from her stool at the kitchen island and pushed her notebook aside. From the corner of his eye, he caught the word “DEAD” and a series of arrows. He carried her to the couch and curled her against his chest. His hands rhythmically stroked the length of her chestnut hair and the hum of their blood bond quieted her tears.

“What are you seeing that has got you so upset?”

“I can’t, Godric.”

“You must tell me if we are in danger. You must.”

“You already know we’re in danger.”

He fell silent for a beat.

“You said once you would tell me something crucial when it was time.” His tone was as soft and even as ever. “Is it time?”

“It is…not.”

“Not time or simply not a good time to talk about it?”

“It’s just not fucking time, okay?” she snapped. Then added, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to swear. I’m just at my wits’ end. When I know something, I’ll say something. Promise.”

Godric simply nodded and pulled her closer. Briefly, he considered glamouring her, but decided to employ more traditional means to get his way before resorting to something she would hold against him.

Midday, when the sun was blazing overhead, Godric crept out of their bed and tiptoed upstairs, fighting the hard pull of sleep. He found Lillian’s books right where she had left them on the dining room table. He flipped one open to find stumpy ragged paper edges clinging to the spine. The second was the same. Lillian had ripped out every page of her writing and thrown it into the fireplace, apparently after he had gone to ground. Godric rushed to the ashes, not caring that the red embers singed his flesh raw. He dug through the remains of the fire for some remnant, some clue. Nothing.

There would be no easy answers from his oracle.

At the foot of the bed, he deliberated whether to wake her now and demand an explanation or wait until he wasn’t bleeding from his ears with a pounding headache. Chewing his cheek, he chose to wait. It would not be the right choice.

In the golden hour at sunset, Godric’s eyes slammed open. Something was wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. He immediately felt to his side where he expected Lillian. Her spot had long since gone cold.

 _Fear, pain, distance._ He felt these instantaneously in his bond with Lillian. Godric roared to life, punching Eric hard through the bond to rouse him in Minnesota. Within seconds, he felt Eric flicker awake, sluggishly, then become wracked with the same wave of panic.

Godric’s feet barely touched the floorboards as he tore up the stairs. He was already on the phone with his child by the time he reached the foyer.

“Car keys are missing,” he barked into the speaker. “She didn’t take her purse.”

“She’s been taken,” Eric confirmed.

Godric was about to agree when he saw the note.

 

**_Wait_ _._ **

 

He flipped it over, certain there must be more.

“Godric!” Eric cried. “Did they leave tracks?”

“No…There’s a note. From her.”

“SPEAK old man, for Chrissake! What is it?”

“It’s…instructions.”


	27. The Gambit

As sneaky and silent as vampires could be, Godric could not prevent the subtle dip in the mattress as he tiptoed back into bed after trying to peek into Lillian’s notebooks. Everything happened exactly as she had foreseen. Now, if only her gambit would play out smoothly. Lillian lay perfectly still until she was certain Godric had been pulled back into his daytime death sleep. She slid out as slowly and quietly as possible and dressed in the clothes she had laid out the night before. Black, utilitarian, disposable.

Her go-bag was easy to assemble. Under the bathroom sink, she grabbed a number of the medical supplies Eric kept there. The house contained a virtual cornucopia of blood bank accessories. She collected a hoard of long infusion tubing, packs of IV catheters, and a handful of alcohol swab packets. The sterile, empty blood bags were in a kitchen drawer, of course, and she took a whole stack and stuffed them in with the other things.

The keys to the Aston Martin jangled in her pocket. She hesitated at the kitchen island. The words would have to be just right. She scribbled on a blank sheet of paper and stuffed it in her pocket. Then she wrote another note and left the pen beside it.

**_Wait_ ** **_._ **

A single, clear message. She prayed it would be enough. She prayed that Godric and Eric would heed her word and trust her judgement. And she prayed silently to Eric’s patron goddess Freya that she would protect him and help her weave time and circumstance together to save them all.

When she reached the garage, the door was barely up before she rammed the gearbox into reverse. The V12 roared under her rough touch. The car was made to devour asphalt. The Vantage was soon nothing more than a grey streak along the highway and holy shit was this an amazing vehicle. Screw pride. She was damn well going to keep it if she survived.

Lillian pushed the car to its limits, flying down I-49 at speeds she had never before dared attempt. She  _had_ to reach the city before Eric and Godric rose. Everyone’s destiny depended on it.

For days she had endured versions of the future filled with nothing but ash and bone. If her visions were right – and she was confident they were – Marduk was going to attack and many, many humans and vampires would die.

Finally settling on what had to be done, early that morning Lillian stoked the coals in the fireplace in an hour of sunup she had not witnessed in months. She opened her detailed notes on what horrors she had foreseen.

_Godric led the battle at Metairie, eyes black with determination. Scores of vampires flanked him, fangs drawn and weapons in hand. Eric was at his side, towering over his maker and quivering with bloodlust. The first explosions spread confusion through the ranks. Fire was suddenly everywhere and Marduk was there and then gone, attacking from seemingly nowhere and decimating them from all sides. His blurring form moved too quickly, his strength too tremendous. He ripped through swaths of vampires, sending sheets of blood into the air. More fires broke out and the smoke from the fires obscured the abandoned factory fields where the battle would take place. No one realized the source of the dense, greasy blazes until it was too late. They were in the midst of a holocaust – and the holocaust was them. Marduk possessed the fabled power of fire._

_Talbot came screaming at Eric for help. Flames licked from his eye sockets and circled his skull in coral trails. Eric reeled back to avoid his grasp, but before Talbot could reach him Godric spun and took his head clean from his body. The pass of his sword was efficient. What followed next seemed to occur in slow motion._

_Godric’s back was exposed as he completed the natural momentum of the kill. From the corner of Eric’s vision, he saw the telltale movement of the ancient. He did not hesitate. “Here!” Eric screamed, his legs already putting distance between himself and Godric. It was just enough to distract the creature from Godric. Eric’s face was contorted into a lion’s grimace as he rushed at the Babylonian. When he leapt through the air over the bloodied ground in the dark of night, he was the same howling harbinger of death he was a thousand years before. Once a warrior and a warrior to the end._

_Eric did not fear the cost of fate. He attacked sword first, plunging Grendl into the monster’s neck. And the monster embraced him, shocked by the death blow. This close, Marduk had clearly once been devastatingly handsome. Marduk’s amber eyes rolled into his head and as his life drained away, he rammed his fist straight into Eric’s chest cavity. Eric smiled, realizing he had made the same fatal error as he had a millennium before. How fitting that his last kill should be such a truly great opponent. As Marduk died from the fatal sword hit, he squeezed his cold hand around Eric’s heart. Blood splattered from Eric’s mouth and still he was laughing at death, as he always had. He would go to Valhalla wreathed in glory._

_Godric saw the two fall to the ground. He froze when he felt it. He dropped to his knees in defeat, then collapsed completely. It was as if Marduk’s hand had closed over his own heart. He felt the life crushed from him._

Lillian tore the sheet of notebook paper out and allowed herself silent tears. She tossed it onto the embers and the quick rush of crackling heat brought her no comfort. In this version, Eric would sacrifice himself to save his maker, only to have his maker end his grief in the sun.

She pulled another page from her book and set it alight. In a similar set of circumstances, both would both be cut down, thousands of years of wisdom and love slaughtered with the flick of a wrist. Marduk’s strength and speed could not be bested. With her lovers gone, Marduk’s reign of terror would continue unmitigated. The obvious answer was to warn them about Marduk’s fire ‘gift’, if such a cruel tool of devastation could be called as much. No one would anticipate it. No one even believed such a vampire ability existed, apart from old makers’ tales. If Lillian were to tell Godric and Eric about Marduk’s power of fire – the one he would use to immolate the young vampires and burn most of New Orleans to the ground – they would be able to subdue him. The ancient could be brought down. She was relieved by this hope– for a time. Then more visions came.

_Eric’s screams bounced off the underground bunker in Minnesota. Pam circled around the table that doubled as a makeshift stretcher while Godric tore open his veins and fed him every ounce of life he had to give. She begged her grandsire to work faster, imploring him to let her help too. The scene continued for days and days. Then days would turn into weeks. Godric’s feedings, supplemented with bagged blood, would be accompanied by many more chilling screams of pain from the charred hunk of flesh that barely contained Eric’s life._

Eric would be burned terribly in the battle, but he would survive with Godric’s blood. New Orleans would be mostly destroyed, but it would rebuild in yet more haunted shadows of loss. During Eric’s healing, it would be too dangerous for Lillian to be anywhere near him. She would stay upstairs and give bagged blood as needed from the ostentatious upper rooms of the Minnesota regent’s palace.

Gruesome option that it was, she was nearly determined to announce that this should be their course of action, since everyone came out alive in this scenario. Then she felt two cold, beady eyes staring at her from the edges of this outcome. She followed her sight to this dim corner of possibility to discover the unsavory intentions of one William Compton.

_Barely conscious, the hand around her mouth smelled of damp soil and decay. She had just come through Pam’s royal quarters, where Eric was being treated below in the basement, when the foul hand silenced her and a sharp blow cracked across her skull. The hit to her head was severe. Before she could regain her bearings, everything went dark._

_When she came to, the earth was still spinning woozily from behind a blindfold. Vinyl zip ties clicked around her wrists and cut into her ankles, pinning her to a bare metal bedframe. Lillian had no idea where she had been taken. Somewhere remote with broken glass on the ground. An old sanitarium or an abandoned apartment complex, perhaps._

_She heard voices conversing._

_One of them was Compton’s. “I delivered the girl. Now make good on your word,” he said._

_“For such trouble, she’s really rather a small thing, is she not?”_

_“Victor, we have little time before they realize she’s gone. I didn’t play along with your machinations to have this fall through. Give me Lady De Beaufort’s head and territory or I’ll kill the human and you’ll have nothing to bargain with.”_

While Godric attended to Eric’s healing and Pam was busy straightening out her new disaster of a territory, ambitious vampires from other courts would use this as an opportunity to kidnap Lillian. The creepy procurer was working with this Victor character all along, hoping to raise his station. Compton had purposefully intervened with the werewolves in order to draw Pamela away from her maker, confident that the Viking would send her instead of dealing with the mess himself (though he’d terribly misjudged just how much peril that would put him in). Once the powerful family was split apart and distracted, Victor and Compton could get their hands on the woman who had captured so much of Godric and Eric’s interest. The entire bloodline would be tried and executed for having revealed vampires’ existence to a human and she would spend her days as a blood slave, passed around among various regents to exploit her abilities and to be used for her pleasurable taste.

When Lillian meditated on this angle of circumstances, things grew appreciably worse. There was no acceptable future where her gift was not discovered by more supes and no avenue where its discovery could be prevented from being abused. It led to horror, upon horror, upon horror.

In a truly ugly moment of weakness, she considered suicide if it would save Godric and Eric. It was ridiculous, and the cruelest, most selfish thing possible. She was the new Pythia, a modern day oracle. To run from this strange gift would not just be cowardly, it would be abandoning everyone she loved whom depended on her.

Fate hung not in some cosmic balance, but in the hands of the willing. This much she knew. Destinies, she had come to realize, all contained a certain flexibility. The chords of future and present must be actively woven together. She could stand at the crux of time and bind the threads of that which might be with that which could come to pass, depending on what actions she took and what she advised others. She held that power. She was beginning to wonder whether Eric’s patron goddess had somehow blessed her with her own powers to ensure his safety. If so, she owed her a serious sacrifice.

As the last of the pages turned to ash, confidence about what Lillian had to do hardened into a full plan. She did not ask permission. She did not consult with anyone. Nor did she give any indication of her intentions. There were no lengthy notes, no long apologies.

She simply left a single word for her vampires and ran in the glow of breaking daylight with a bag of medical equipment and Godric’s gladius sword, pilfered off the mantle.

It was still light outside when she arrived outside the Metairie compound where Greysolon was being held.

There were no guards on the property. No supe in their right might would approach whatever vampire clusterfuck clearly lay inside. She knew the entire place must reek of serious vamp drama, though she could not scent it herself. At the outside gates, with a rubber tourniquet around her bicep, she carefully inserted an IV catheter into the vein of her left arm and taped it down. She had already tapped into her right arm while driving at breakneck speeds. Opening both catheters slightly, she created a thin, tantalizing crimson trail on the parking lot leading straight to the main door of the warehouse.

Inside the silver jail, she let out actual splashes of her lifeblood on the concrete floor. It’s was an ugly business, but necessary, and she was certain this would work.

~OOO~

Godric paced like a caged beast waiting for Eric to leave from Minnesota. He felt Lillian weakening. He now sensed clearly that she was in New Orleans. He knew that she was frightened yet determined and that her pain and fear was growing by the minute. He was nearly about to crawl out of his own skin he was so wracked with anxiety.

The torrent of chaos in the bloodline was so disturbing that Pam woke in shock well before her normal hour. The sun had not fully descended. She called her grandsire immediately. He quickly explained the situation. Lillian had gone off to do something none of them understood and given them no warning or details.”I can get a charter flight at sundown and be there in hours,” she said.

“Grandchild, you must stay put for all of our safety. I’ve abandoned my territory temporarily and only the gods know what mess has been created in my absence. Eric is about to leave his turf as well and you know we cannot trust what political machinations are taking place there behind closed doors. We need a safe place In America to run if whatever this situation is goes poorly. I need you to wait and be our steadfast guardian, lovely child. Do me a favor though?”

“Anything, grandsire.”

“Get a jet ready in New Orleans and have the crew on standby. Not one of our smaller ones. Have the one that can manage a transatlantic flight if it’s necessary.”

“Absolutely. Godric?”

“Yes?”

“I love you, old man. Be careful.”

~OOO~

“Work blood, work god damn it!” Lillian said, looking at her watch. Marduk should have caught the delectable scent by now if her visions were right. She was inside the locked silver cage with Greysolon, who was bound to a chair and looked pathetically green. She asked him if he needed anything and he just drooled.

“Oh Jesus, you’re in bad shape.”

She found a towel and a bag of blood in a cooler under the table. She wiped the pinkish blood sweat from his brow and neck; she couldn’t ignore his agony even if he was an enemy. Though she had no idea if the donor blood was still safe, she offered it to him and he bit through the plastic and drained it immediately.

“Please…Is there any more?” he croaked, eyes still closed. “I’m silver poisoned and starving.”

“Your master is going to come. I’ll give you some of his blood and you’ll feel better, okay?”

Blood tears began streaming from Greysolon’s eyes and he wept inconsolably.

“Ssh, Ssh now. Can you feel him? Is he coming?”

“Yes. He’s coming. Coming for  _you_.”

Lillian fussed with the supplies she had brought on the table, terrified and determined to make this work. Godric’s fabled gladius sword was strapped to her back. The waiting was the worst part.

Finally, at sundown, she heard the door handle jangle experimentally.

“Greysolon.  _Greysolon_ ,” she hissed. She kicked the leg of his metal chair. “Dammit wake up! Is that your maker?” Daniel had fallen back into a catatonic state and was useless.

The handle creaked and turned. Marduk stalked in, licking the blood he’d swiped off the ground from his fingers. He cocked his head and sniffed the air, realizing how much silver the room contained. Then his liquid amber eyes settled on what he was after. Lillian shuttered in disbelief at what she had willingly done. But she was not giving up now.

Marduk paced in front of the cage, trying to find a way through the thick silver bars. Lillian dropped to one knee and bowed her head deeply. “Bel Marduk. Welcome. Forgive me that I do not speak your language. I am unworthy of your presence.” Her words halted his footsteps. Perhaps he knew English after all. Perhaps he simply recognized her honorific submission. He came closer, scenting her.

Lillian once again opened the catheter in one of her arms and let a few drops trickle into her hand. She stepped slightly closer to the bars, showing it to him. “You want this, don’t you?” He snarled with huge fangs. She licked it off her own palm, biting her bottom lip and moaning.

Marduk roared. The inhuman sound was ghastly and hurt her ears. “Alright, fine. Come closer. I can give you what you want.” His brow furrowed. She waved him toward her and risked another step toward the barrier that separated them.

He hesitated, then lunged at the cell wall, jutting his arms through the silver bars to grab his prize, uncaring that it sizzled his skin. He was impossibly fast, but his human meal was just out of reach and he was desperate to grab her. She smiled at him and showed him her still bloodied tongue and teeth. With his eyes on her mouth, he didn’t register the clicks around his wrists until it was too late. He looked down at the heavy silver handcuffs now binding him to the wall of silver and he screamed in frustration and shook at his restraints.

“Bel Marduk, my liege Lord. I think you understand me far better than you let on. Sit down. And please try tocalm down. I am not here to hurt you.” He rattled and pulled at the powerful silver but even he was starting to be affected by this vampire death trap Eric had manufactured.

Slowly, he slid to the ground, his hands stuck above his head.

“I am going to give you my blood. But I need you to stick your feet through the bars too so I can bind them. You are a great Lord and a true ancient, but you won’t savor my rare flavor unless you do what I ask. I can only help you if you help me too.”

He didn’t trust her words.

“May I first have the honor of bathing and anointing your skin? It has been a long time since you’ve had a priestess, no?” Marduk looked up at her with the most penetrating, desperate gaze. “Yes, great, fabled one. I know. Too long you’ve not been properly served. Now let me see those feet.” He stuck them through the silver bars, the scorching against his skin barely registering. She chained his ankles tightly.

With him immobilized in thick silver cuffs on a silver cage, Lillian drew out a hot bucket of soapy water she had at the ready. She washed his hands and feet, scraping the mud from underneath his nails and trimming them. What she did next was an enormously dangerous gamble, but he had slumped into submission at her attentions, so she opened the jail gate and brought the bucket to the other side where Marduk was trapped. She ran to the front doors of the warehouse and locked them. “Sorry, I just wanted to make sure you had privacy,” she lied.

She sudsed his stringy hair at a careful distance to ensure he didn’t whip around and bite her. He didn’t move at all. He only grunted in pleasure at her fingers rubbing circles into his scalp. She rinsed the bayou mud and scummy duckweed from it until those long, raven locks were lustrous and shining again. She stroked soapy streaks down his back and shoulders to reveal his golden preternatural skin and he sighed. The rest of him was too risky to try cleaning, so she poured the warm water over his muscled chest and legs. Then toweling his back and hair, she pulled out a small jar of Godric’s insanely expensive hand-made bath oil and ran it through his hair and rubbed his shoulders and back. Marduk moaned at her touch. It was probably the first time he had been touched kindly in centuries, if not millennia.

“Now you look and smell like a true god of Babylon, my lord.”

Lillian quickly locked herself back in the jail cell. Marduk looked at her not with bloodlust and madness, but sudden recognition. It was a brief moment of sanity. “Bel Marduk, my liege, I am Lillian Choate, your most humble servant.”

Suddenly, his husky voice suddenly tried out the sound. “Lillian.”

“Yes.” She smiled. “You are so beautiful when you let your priestesses take care of you. You’ve been away from your worshipers for too long,” she whispered, daring to reach through the bars and push a wet strand of hair behind his ear. He scented her arm as she withdrew it quickly, trailing his nose along the sensitive skin there. He actually smiled.

The man that everyone thought a monster – who had indeed done truly monstrous things after losing his mind – had once been a raven-haired, amber-eyed, golden god. She could envision him in the finest linen and glittering jewels, eyes rimmed with kohl. But he had been broken somehow in the cruelties of time.

“Oh, handsome Lord Marduk. I’ve seen so much of you in my dreams.” He smiled again. “We’ll share blood, yes?”

His handcuffs clanked against the bars as he tried to reach for her – this time not violently. “You understand what I’m asking. Please use words so I know that you consent.”

He breathed a huff involuntarily. “Share.”

“Okay. Thank you. We’re going to do this a little differently. Modern sharing, okay?”

“Yes. Share,” he said again.

Lillian went to the table and got the IV equipment and blood bags. “This is going to pinch like a bee sting, but just for a second. She swabbed his muscular arm to sterilize the site (though why she bothered, she had no idea) and squeezing his bicep to get his big veins full, she slipped an IV catheter into him and secured it extra well. She did the same to his other arm. He watched in fascination. She connected long curling IV tubes into the catheters. “I’m going to give you all my blood, dear Marduk. And you are going to give me all of yours.” She produced a bag she’d filled with a pint while driving like a madwomen. “Would you like to try me first?”

Marduk pushed his face at the bars and grunted.

“Careful now! Don’t hurt that beautiful face of yours.” She put the bag to his mouth and he snapped into it and began sucking down what was now her lukewarm blood. As he greedily drank it down, she opened his IV’s and filled two bags as full as they could go. He sucked at the empty plastic and she gently pulled it from his mouth. “Here darling, have more.” She gave him another bag of her blood. It was probably only a half pint or less (she didn’t want to pass out while going nearly 200 mph). She filled another two bags with his fluid while he drank and set them aside.

“I bet you want it hot from my body,” she said.

“Priestess Lillian,” he growled out.

“Yes? You want your priestess? Okay. You know I am yours. Are you mine?” He hummed and clanked against the bars, trying to get closer. “Tell me.”

“You. You are good.”

“I try to be.”

“ _Very g_ _ood_. Help me.”

“You’ve suffered for so long.”

“You help.”

“I can make it better.”

Lillian attached tubing on only one of her own IV catheters. As she offered the single direct line the ancient vampire, and took both two lines from him. “Let’s drink each other forever, Bel Marduk.”

Marduk began to suckle the tubing and moan. Lillian took hard drags on his two intravenous lines to get as much as she could.

And she kept drinking. And quietly, while he was distracted, she filled two more bags with his blood and drank still.

Scenes of temples and fires and dark waters filled her mind. It was a terrifying bond, being caught in the horrors of an ancient being’s mind.

She paused. “Marduk, great king. Do you remember the beautiful things? Show me the glories of your city at the height of your reign.”

She drank again and his thoughts shifted, showing her the fabled hanging gardens and remarkable temples and exquisitely dressed people laying offerings at his feet.

After hours and hours, she was starting to feel incredibly weak.

“Give me more, Marduk. I need more. Keep going.”

Feeling their bond take firm hold, and feeling his relief and appreciation of her, she made the potentially crazed decision to unlock one of his handcuffs.

But Marduk understood what she wanted. He bit his wrist and stuck it through the silver bars and she fed directly from him. He was panting, exhilarated by this daring woman taking everything from him. It somehow brought him to the surface of a consciousness he had not known in millennia. He was a man again, not a monster. He knew what he wanted to do. He would give her everything. His freedom. His blood. His life. And in return, she would save him from his madness.

“Lillian,” he called.

She looked up at him from where she was pulling as hard as possible from his wrist before it closed. He healed so quickly.

“My final child. My warrior priestess. My savior.”

She stopped to sit up, bloody-mouthed. She hadn’t expected him to become so clear-headed.

“Tell me about your younger blood brother, the one who was mad like you,” she suddenly demanded.

His eyes misted red. “My blood brother is gone.”

“I know he is. Tell me about the madness. Please. How did his happen? How did yours happen?”

He seemed distant and confused for a long minute and then suddenly nodded. “Starvation. Long, long starvation.”

“As punishment?”

He hummed in agreement, clearly lost in some tragic memory.

“Tell me what else I need to know.”

He looked at her lovingly and stroked her cheek with his long, luminescent bronze fingers. “Simple. Live forever. Honor me. Be a goddess.”

Lillian bravely took his finely shaped hand and kissed his knuckles.

“Tasting me, did you know?”

“I know. I see what you are, who you are.”

“Thank you, Marduk. I will bring honor to our bloodline and our bloodline will honor you, always.” A sudden thought occurred to her. “Do you have a horde somewhere? A stash of treasure I should find and save? Our family keeps all our swords on the wall above the hearth. We keep a great many other things, I believe.”

He had that lost look again, trying to dig through shattered memories. He leaned forward to the bars and whispered something to Lillian. Her eyes grew wide. Then he sat back. “It is time,” he said.

“Show me your blood brother. Show me your maker. Show me everything you remember of our bloodline, please.” With that, Lillian bit savagely into his wrist again and drank and drank and drank, while he too took from her. There was terrific pounding on the front door and the muted yelling voices, but they kept drinking for hours.

In his last moments, the ancient opened his striking eyes, his clean black hair now dry and curled around his high cheekbones. He uttered something in an ancient language Lillian did not understand, but she tried to remember it. He smiled and a single blood tear fell from his eye. He stroked her hair and touched her lips through the bars with his free arm.

“Thank you, my oracle. May you live forever.”

Lillian nodded and continued drinking until there was nothing left of either of them.


	28. Revelations

The second Godric heard the high-pitched roar of the Ferrari Berlinetta’s engine coming down the road, he locked up the house and went outside to wait in the driveway. Eric pulled in, tires screeching. He practically leapt out of the car. Godric stood there with a grim look and Eric’s sword, Grendl, slung over his shoulder.

“Where is your sword?” Eric asked.

“She took it.”

“What in the  _hell_ is going on?!”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be carrying this stupid Viking longsword that weighs as much as me,” Godric shot back. He put a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “I do not know what we are facing, but I fear it may be the worst.”

Eric was silent for a long moment, staring straight past his maker at nothing. “Me too,” he said quietly. “But we will face it together.”

“Ready?”

“As ever.”

Then they took to the skies at rocket speeds.

~OOO~

Outside, the Metairie compound was quiet, save for a wet ditch of peepers peeping their night songs at each other. Two crimson lines of Lillian’s unmistakable blood trailed across the pavement towards the warehouse entrance. Eric immediately ran to the large reinforced doors. He couldn’t hear anything inside. The doors were thick.

Godric was wary and observant and he studied the contours of the rivulets of blood. He noticed someone had wiped their fingers through them. He knelt down to sniff the smeared spot. The scent was alarming. He did not like what he found there. Some pieces about what might be happening here were starting to come together.

“I don’t get it,” Eric said. “I can feel that she’s in pain and weakening, but she is calm. Almost happy. What clusterfuck are we running into?”

Godric sighed. “We’re about to find out.” Reaching behind his shoulder, he drew Eric’s sword from its sheath and handed it to him.

They both pulled on the heavy doors together. They didn’t budge. “By the gods! She’s locked in there!” Eric said. He panicked and pounded the doors in futility, screaming Lillian’s name. He grew more frantic by the second. “How the fuck do we get in? How do we get in, Goh!?”

Godric stood with his hands on his hips, a pose he most certainly had picked up from his grandchild Pamela. “You tell me,” he said impassively. “You’re the one who designed this fortress to keep an ancient monster locked inside.”

 _“Jävla helvetes_ ,” Eric cursed in disgust at himself. “I am not thinking clearly.”

“You don’t say,” Godric remarked.

Eric reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his keys. Godric raised an unimpressed eyebrow at his child and shook his head in dismay. When this was through, they were going to yet again have ‘the talk’ about keeping a cool head in times of total crisis. Eric had nearly mastered it, but when it came to loved ones, he still basically lost his damn mind.

Eric slid the large brass key into the door and was about to turn it when suddenly Godric grabbed his arm with an iron grip.

“No. Wait.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Wait. Lillian just told me to wait again.”

“What? Why should we wait!? She’s injured!”

“I am telling you that she just sent me the thought to  _wait_  through our bond. She knows we are here. If she wants us to wait, we wait.  _She’s_ the prophetess, not you.”

“No, Godric, she’s a mortal who is capable of error and is entirely vulnerable!”

“Child, be patient. She will tell us when it is time.”

Eric growled in complete frustration. He jerked the key out of the slot and kicked and beat at the doors again, calling desperately for his Lila.

“Eric, stop. You are going to hurt yourself.”

Eric ignored him and continued taking his rage out on the doors, slamming his fists into the metal until they bled.

“Eric, I said to stop…Eric?…Eric!” Godric narrowed his eyes at his child’s insolence and idiocy. “ _Eiríkr Goðrìkson!”_ he barked in fury, using his progeny’s true name and raising his voice louder than he had in a century. “As your maker, I  _command_  you to stop this pointless tantrum and calm yourself!”

Eric slumped in defeat, stunned by the command. It was a power his maker virtually never exercised. Godric took his hand and led him to sit down next to him on the ground. They leaned against the building. Godric let his head fall back against the stucco and closed his eyes to meditate on how they should proceed. Eric rested his head on his maker’s shoulder, feeling repentant, and Godric immediately put an arm around him and pulled him close. While Godric was lost in thought, Eric nervously picked at a little patch of weeds pushing up through a crack in the pavement. He chucked the shreds of dandelion greens and bahiagrass into the air, bit by bit.

The two waited.

And waited.

Eric’s weed clump had long since been destroyed. They waited more. They did not speak, but they held each other, hoping Lillian would give them some sign of what to do.

Suddenly, when dawn was not but an hour away, Godric shot to his feet and grabbed his chest.

“What? What is it?” Eric asked.

“I feel something odd in the bond.”

“She seems the same to me.”

“No, not Lily. The bloodline.” Godric gasped, then stumbled and fell to his knees.

“Take my blood! Here!” Eric offered a pale wrist. “Maker? Goh?!”

Godric started shivering violently and behind his eyes there was a blinding explosion of white light, accompanied by the sensation of being pulled apart inside and put back together. He shouted, then collapsed completely. Eric was instantly at his side, begging him to speak, begging him to tell him how he could help. Tears started streaming from Godric’s eyes. He was laughing through them with a huge smile. He rolled onto his back and grabbed Eric by the shirt. “Oh Lillian. Oh my. What  _have_ you done? It is impossible!”

Eric stared in utter confusion at his wildling Celt maker and could not make head nor tails of his behavior or the bizarre twisting and spinning in their bond.

He then realized that while he had been entirely absorbed in helping Godric, he had stopped monitoring his connection to Lillian. He mentally searched for her bond and was suddenly gut-punched with absolute horror.

“Oh my god. Godric, she’s gone. She’s gone! The bond is gone!” Eric pulled at his hair and was about to go berserk. “Fuck it. I’m going in. I’m going and you cannot stop me.”

Actually, he could. Godric circled two fingers around Eric’s wrist and halted him completely. “Listen to me first, child.” Godric was still wiping his blood tears of joy off his face. “Will you listen?”

“Yes, maker.”

“Lillian told me long ago that she would tell me something critical when the time was right. She’s just told me. It is time.”

“So you can still feel her?” Eric asked, his hope renewed.

Godric gave him a mysterious smile. Eric shook his head at how absolutely intractable this man could be.

“Do you mind letting go of my arm so I don’t lose a limb?”

Godric released him and Eric stormed off toward the doors. He quickly unlocked them and even with his strength, had to put a bit of effort into opening one.

Godric was still splayed out on the pavement, woozy and overcome with light and happiness. By the time he gathered himself together and got up, he heard a horrific scream from inside the building.

“Noooooo!”

Godric stumbled inside the jail cell to find Eric on his knees, cradling and rocking Lillian’s limp body in his arms, sobbing hysterically. He was nuzzling her hair and making an absolute mess with his blood tears.

The entire room was covered in a fine grey ash.

Eric looked up to see Godric staring at him. His eyes gleamed with absolute awe. It was so disgustingly wrong, Eric could not even find words violent enough to hurl at his maker. Such agony had no definition. He crumpled back over the lifeless body of his bonded and cried harder than he had in centuries, if ever. The clever little human woman had walked into his bar one night and changed his life forever.

After long minutes, Eric carefully laid his dead bonded lover down on the ground as gently as possible. He went to Greysolon, who was still tied to a chair in the corner of the jail cell. He was, without a doubt, a half-step away from a gruesome silver-poisoning death.

“Wake up, asshole.” Eric smacked him in the face with the flat side of his sword. Greysolon could barely crack his eyes open.

Even after being inside this silver hell jail for only twenty minutes, Eric was nauseous and close to vomiting. He needed to get out soon.

“I said WAKE UP!”

“My maker’s blood,” Greysolon managed to creak out. “She said I could have my maker’s blood.”

“Oh, not a chance.”

“Please!”

“Daniel Greysolon, you do not deserve, nor have you earned, the aid of your elders. This is your reckoning, you piece of shit. May your name be forgotten and all your progeny be destroyed!”

Grendl’s steel blade, over a millennium old, had been oiled, polished, and kept immaculately sharp since Eric inherited it as a young human man. In a clean swipe, Daniel Greysolon’s head toppled to the ground and he splashed into a pile of bloody goop.

Godric simply stood there and watched. He knew his child would take his anger out on the worthless vampire who had caused such enormous trouble. It was going to make Pam’s work subduing Greysolon’s flock far more difficult, but in the end, it was actually a mercy. Mercy was most certainly not something he had taught Eric, but Greysolon would never have recovered from this much silver exposure. Ultimately, it was Sophie-Anne who had given the order to put him in here. It was her crime, not theirs.

Eric threw his sword down and fell back to Lillian’s side. Her pallor was sheet white.

“Give her your blood,” Godric said.

“She’s fucking dead.”

“Do as I say. It will be your third large exchange and will seal your bond permanently.”

“Do you  _hear_ a heartbeat? No. We have lost her. What the fuck is the point?”

Godric took a step forward and pointed a terrifying single finger at him. “You swear at me one more time, child, and as the gods as my witnesses, I will beat your insubordinate ass worse than I did in Baudobriga. You will do as you maker tells you and you will do it RIGHT NOW!”

Eric bit into his wrist and squeezed his forearm to force his sluggish vampire blood into her mouth. Godric knelt down and tipped Lillian’s head up to massage it down her throat.

To Eric’s total surprise, Godric repeated the same action with his own blood, giving her far more than he had. Eric stared at his maker for the longest time, trying to parse why they were giving their blood – the blood Godric insisted was so sacred – to a corpse.

When Eric was certain he was going to barf a sheet of crimson from the silver, Godric finally spoke. “She’s not dead.”

“Please, maker,” Eric whispered, unbidden tears flowing again. “Do not be cruel to me. Please. Not now.”

“Eric, she is  _not_  dead. Look around you. What do you see?”

“I don’t know. A dead asshole who had it coming to him, our beloved bonded with your gladius sword still strapped to her back like a slain Valkyrie…” His voice cracked and he fell into sobs again.

“And what else?” Godric demanded. “Look.”

“I don’t know. A hell of a lot of dust.”

“Yes, young one. Think.”

Eric furrowed his brow.

When Eric finally understood what his maker was trying to point out, the realization was so shocking that he fell back onto his heels, covering his mouth. “It’s…no. No. No, no, no! Oh holy Freya and the gods protect us!…It’s…It’s ash…ash! Like when….” He couldn’t finish the sentence. The compulsion Godric had placed on him long ago silenced his words.

Godric remained calm. “Please collect the 6 pints of blood bags she left on the floor. They are for her. I see that there is a cooler under the table and this blood must  _absolutely_  be preserved correctly. It is vampire blood. Do not add anti-coagulant into it. Do you understand?”

Eric nodded, still stunned.

“I will gather some of the ash for us. Could you find me an appropriate container?”

Eric hunted around in the back storage closets until he found a large Ball jar. “This is the best I could manage.”

Godric screwed off the lid and smelled it to make sure it was clean. With great respect, he scooped up as much of the remains as he could off the floor.

“ _Fader_ , please tell me what has happened here.”

“We have less than half an hour before sunrise to get Lily out of here and get on a jet to Sweden.”

“What!?”

“I’ve got one on standby. We are going home. She’s not turning in the accursed bayous of Louisiana. We are taking her home.”

“She’s…She’s what?!” his voice grew octaves higher. “She’s been turned?!” Eric could barely process Godric’s words.

~OOO~

On the jet, Eric held Lillian in a soft blanket and would not relinquish her to Godric or set her down. They’d had to do some very quick damage control as they sped to the private airport next to Lake Pontchartrain. In Eric’s grief, he’d bloodied himself, Lillian, and all of their clothes. It would not do to show up at the security check blood-soaked with what otherwise appeared to be a dead woman.

It was a long flight and they were flying directly into the deadly embrace of sunrise. It was an unnatural and unnerving way to travel. Godric kept awake without issue, but several times Eric found himself dozing to conserve his strength and then suddenly startling back awake only to pull Lillian closer to him. He checked on her constantly and shifted her against his chest to ensure her limp body was arranged comfortably. Fighting the urge to sleep – even at his age – he found himself getting the bleeds. Godric quickly handed him a handkerchief across the aisle so that he could mop up the evidence before the human stewardess saw. She had been a longtime employee and it would be a shame to have to glamour her to near stupidity in order to cover up their true nature. It was easy enough to lie and say that Eric’s “new wife” was, according to his total bullshit cover story, “completely exhausted after their honeymoon.” The stewardess had blushed at the innuendo, clearly a bit jealous. Dripping blood out of his ears, nose, and eyes, however, was not something that could be so easily explained.

Sensing how on edge he was, Godric suggested multiple times that they put on a movie or listen to some music. Eric just growled defensively, not bothering to hide his dropped fangs.

“It is going to be okay, you know,” Godric said.

“You know what isn’t okay? That you haven’t given me a god damned explanation.”

“Child – your language. I swear…”

“My language is literally the last of your fucking problems. I am sorry if I have been rude, but you haven’t given me any clue as to what the actual fuck is going on right now.”

“Lillian will explain everything when she rises.”

Godric’s typical caginess set Eric further on edge. “You had a plane ready. Do you have a car for us to get to Grottan Huset?”

“I called and arranged transport as we were boarding.”

Grottan Huset, or “The Cave House,” was the home Lillian had envisioned the night Eric took her flying. It had all glass ceilings to allow the Arctic auroras to flood the entire second floor with splendorous colors. It was built on a large tract of land that Eric and Godric had bought long, long ago, when land titles first became available. Eric had designed and constructed the house himself a decade ago. Through a bit of architectural genius, it sat nestled against a cliffside near the Baltic Sea and sat over the very cave where Godric had turned Eric over a millennium ago. It was the most sacred place they owned.

The jet wheels squealed on the tarmac as they landed at Stockholm’s Arlanda airport. Eric turned and glared at his maker. “When we get into the car, you had better start talking and talking fast. I want some motherfucking explanations.”

Godric placed a hand on his child’s cheek. “When our dear one wakes, she will reveal all that has come to pass. I know the wait is tedious. Gather your patience,” he said in the softest voice, which was his most dangerous voice. “But right now? You ought to be grateful that this hand on your face has not smacked your mouth across the runway for yet again speaking to me in such a disrespectful fashion. I will not warn you again, boy. Do you understand? You have grown brazenly ungrateful to the one who gave you eternity. I deserve more than that. Much, much more. And I will not have you set such an example for Lily.”

Eric clenched his eyes and nodded. They were still rolling across the runway and had not yet reached the gate. Eric unbuckled his seatbelt and for the first time in hours, finally let go of Lillian and settling her into the seat next to him. He knelt down in the middle of the aisle.

“Please forgive me, maker. I have erred in fear and wronged the one whom has taught me all I know and given me everything I have.”

Godric gave him a patient smile and ran his knuckles over his nerve-wracked child’s cheek. “Eiríkr _,_ let’s go home with our bonded love. I want her to wake in the same place you did.”

Eric clenched his jaw to smash down the hundred questions he still had caught in his throat.

~OOO~

In the hour just before dawn, one could already hear the calls of seagulls. The two vampires and the one soon-to-be vampire had arrived and the thick forest surrounding the Cave House was swathed in a foggy, cold sea breeze. The combination of sea salt and wind moving through pine forest made Godric look at his child on the doorstep of their house. He stroked his hair, fully caught in ancient nostalgia. Eric gave a conciliatory smile, knowing exactly what his maker was thinking. These were the elements embedded in his very being.

“All we’re missing is a good blizzard,” Godric said. Eric also possessed that magical smell of snow. There was no mistaking the scent of Eric Northman.

“I want to apologize again to you, Maker. This has not been an easy time. I know I have been difficult. It is good to be home.”

Godric hugged his child and kissed him, then kissed the dead woman in his arms.

Down in the house’s ‘basement,’ which was in fact a cave, Eric lighted candles and set them in the nooks and crannies that he knew by heart. On their way to this remote place, they had stopped at a hospital and ‘borrowed’ a steel table from the morgue, which, while unpleasantly clinical, would make for a much cleaner, modern turning process. Godric gently removed her clothes and rubbed his favorite oil into her skin. Eric brushed her hair until it was shining and he filed her nails so that they were even and lovely. He carefully shaved her legs and underarms twice with an olive oil and sugar mixture that Pamela swore by. He plucked a few stray eyebrow hairs too. They debated at length whether some of her scars should be healed. During his own making, Godric had been ruthless about perfecting him, removing every blemish the human Eric ever possessed.

Yes, they decided, there was at least one scar which needed repair. Godric bit the flesh and healed it with his blood, making it silky smooth. Deliberating further, he suggested Eric fix the other one they had considered. They were determined that she would be eternally exquisite.

For Eric, being down in this sacred place changed his mood entirely. He had been fractious and taciturn in Louisiana while facing such life-threatening drama. But here, this was a holy place. He was made here. Eiríkr and Goðrìk began here. More than a millennium of life and love and companionship clung to the jagged walls of this cave and in the sloping hills surrounding it.

~OOO~

At dusk, Lillian lay on the table in flickering candlelight, beautified and covered in a fine cashmere robe. They had already washed her of the fluids that were naturally expelled during the transformation and re-anointed her skin. Long gone were the days when newborns rose buried in mud and their own filth, desperate to find a way out of the ground and no food nearby. No, Lillian would wake in delicious comfort smelling of sandalwood and vetiver oil and orange blossom water.

Godric and Eric were entering yet another epoch. It was thrilling.

As they waited for Lillian to rise, Eric paced. “Whose ash is in that jar, Goði? Whose blood is in those bags?”

“Eric, sit down. I can feel you are struggling.”

Eric took a seat in one of the Danish modern chairs they had brought down from upstairs to witness the turning.

Godric reached over and set a soft hand on his arm. “ _Min son, mitt blod_ [my son, my blood], it is rare these days that I cannot explain something. I believe Lillian destroyed Marduk and saved us all, but I do not know how, or what, precisely, took place. Let us watch over her and see her wake. We will see our bonded rise and feed her. I am sure in due time she will have many things to say about her choices and actions, which – we must never forget – have likely protected us all.”

“But the ashes…”

“Eric. Let her explain. She knows far better than us. I simply do not know.”

“Do you think her gift of vision will transfer?”

Godric rested his elbows on his knees and shook his head. “Again, I have no answer. I’ve never met a true prophetess who was turned. We must wait and not begrudge it if her gift of vision was the cost of her sacrifice.”

~OOO~

The gag echoed off the walls. Lillian sat up, desperately sucking for air, only to realize she no longer needed it.

Godric was at her side, smiling with the fondest eyes. “Welcome, bonded one.” He kissed her forehead and then her cheeks and mouth.

Eric too hovered over her, kissing her as well. “Welcome, lover,” he whispered into her temple. “I didn’t think you could be more gorgeous, but here you are, more splendid than a goddess. Welcome to eternity, my reborn love.”

Lillian tried to respond, but her throat felt sticky and ached. Eric saw her fail to speak and he immediately put a warm glass of blood to her lips. She balked at first, knowing what it was, then smelled its heady aroma and her fangs dropped.

Godric and Eric looked at each other in absolute pride. 

“Drink sweetheart. You need nutrition immediately,” Godric explained.

Lillian drained the glass, then guzzled three more without hesitation. The onslaught of sensations, smells, colors, and her new sensitivity to movement was overwhelming.

She looked around at her surroundings. The desperate urge to feed had distracted her from taking in where she was. “This is…Oh my gosh…You bought me to the cave. This is where you were made,” she said, looking at Eric properly for the first time. Her jaw dropped. He had been radiant to her human eyes, but now…He flashed a smile and nodded, blinking his pale blue eyes which held every color of ice in them. His golden hair illuminated the night. She turned to Godric and could only shake her head in amazement. His skin was opal, his sagebrush eyes were etched with the knowledge of millennia, and the ancient aura of power surrounding him was astounding.

“Seeing things a little differently?” Godric said with a knowing grin.

“You are both impossibly spectacular beings. Thank you for bringing me here.”

A tear escaped Eric’s control. “Only the best for my bonded. You have been born in the most auspicious conditions we could conjure. I can get you more to drink. Or do you feel stable enough to get up and go upstairs?”

Lillian spun her legs off the table, immediately stunned at how her body could move so quickly, as if it were no effort at all. “There’s an upstairs?”

“Lila, we’re not total savages. We’re in the ‘basement’.”

“Oh. Yes. Okay. I do think I might need more to drink. But let’s go upstairs. Is there more O neg? It was  _really_ good.”

Godric and Eric looked at each other again in glowing pride and Eric chuckled. “Come on love, let me show you our home and I’ll get you more breakfast.”

They walked up the stairs past a large windowless ground floor and kept going up until they arrived at a wood-floored living room with a soaring ceiling made entirely of glass panels. Lillian sunk to her knees, unable to control the sudden rush of emotions. She clapped a hand over her mouth. Overhead, streaks of green, violet, and blue swirled and lit up the room with a paint-brushed, impressionist sky.

Eric sat down beside her.

“It…It is so beautiful.”

“Yes.”

“It is what I foresaw.”

Eric looked at her and smiled so brightly it hurt his cheeks. He grabbed a pillow off the couch. “Lay down.” He curled up next to her and, stroking her cheek, began singing an ancient Viking song to help soothe the strangeness of being a newly awoken vampire. It was a warrior’s song welcoming a glorious death, the very one he had sung the night Godric took him. His eyes filmed in red tears that threatened to break yet again.

She laid there, fingers tangled in his hair, absorbed in the magic of his deep voice. “So, how did we get here? How long have I been dead?” she finally asked.

“It only took a nighttime flight and the daylight hours before you rose. Maker always has layers and layers of extra plans. He had a jet waiting in New Orleans if we needed to run.”

“Um…about that. We need to talk. I know you have questions.”

Godric had been waiting in the shadows of a doorway, hands piously held behind his back. He stepped forward, letting the northern lights fall across his features. If he had appeared like the king of the night underground, he now looked like a ruler of gods, truly befitting the meaning of his name. He was simply ethereal. “Lily, you’ve just come through an enormous physical challenge. Are you sure you feel up to it so immediately?”

“Yes, I’m alright – if Eric gets me another two bags of blood.”

Eric burst out laughing and went to the kitchen.

~OOO~

On two opposing couches, they sat down together.

“This does not leave this room. I don’t think Pam should be told just yet, but it is up to you to make that call. Some of what I am going to say is going to be disturbing, but before either of you freak out, you need to hear out my justifications.”

She took a deep breath. “Godric is not my grandsire, technically.” she replied.

Eric looked at Godric in puzzlement.

“Technically, I’m your granddame.” Godric ran his hands over his face. It was as he feared. Good god what had she done?

“ _What?!_ ” Eric screeched. “But you’re a night old! You aren’t be head of this lineage!”

“Obviously Godric remains our family’s great  _pater familias_.”

“I know you can feel it – an ancient, dark power radiating off my aura.”

“We do. You also feel like you’re about a century old, but it’s clear you’re a newborn,” Eric said.

“Godric leaned forward on his elbows and hung his head. “Who was he, Lily,” he said in a barely audible voice. He felt nauseous.

“This gets into the terrain where I need you to keep calm and just listen.

“Three things. One, he was not your great-grandsire, Godric. Two, you are not going to get dementia. Three, Bel Marduk, the great lord of Babylon, was ….” The words wouldn’t come out. Apparently glamours still held in undeath. “Godric, I need you to remove the glamour you put on me.”

He groaned, knowing where this was headed. “Ragnarok,” he whispered.

“Thank you. Marduk was the blood brother of your maker, Gaël. He was obviously made millennia earlier. I will tell you everything about our bloodline from what I could get Marduk to remember. But first and most importantly, no, you are  _not_ going to go mad. But you must stop whatever archaic punishments our kind deliver that involve long periods of starvation. It is what broke Marduk and it is what broke your maker. Abolish starvation punishments and I guarantee you won’t see any more of these cases. But what I learned…Oh Godric, what I saw of your…our…bloodline. Much of it is images, so you can see them when we share blood.”

Godric shook his head in dismay, his mouth pinched into an angry line to temper his rage. “Lillian Choate, after  _everything_ I told you.” He slammed a balled fist into the couch to make his point. “How  _could_  you? You killed your maker!”

“You yourself explained that poor Gaël only deteriorated as he aged until he was a shell of a vampire. But I saw in the blood that he was sweet and good-natured when he was younger. Marduk has always had a penchant for extreme violence and destruction. He was only going to follow the exact same fate as well, but in the meantime, he was going to destroy us all and wreak havoc on the world unchecked. He had to pass on.”

“And who will control this orphaned vampire child that is sitting before me?”

She smiled warmly, looking first to Eric, then back at Godric. “You two are.”

“How, pray tell? Baby vampires are notoriously difficult to control without a maker to command them.”

“Godric, you are forgetting that both you and Eric have the extraordinary power to glamour other vampires. Think about it. You’re also both a hell of a lot stronger and faster than me. You can always just wrangle me to the ground if I get out of line. Plus, I knew you were going to seal our bonds when you found me so that we would all be eternally joined. Even without a maker’s call, we will be able to communicate. It was the only way any of us were going to survive this. It was the only way Marduk wouldn’t slay half of New Orleans, kill hundreds of good vampires trying to stop him, and burn the city to the ground.

She launched into a long explanation of the visions she had been plagued by. How every single iteration of the future left them and a great many others dead. Then she recounted what took place inside the warehouse. It was a huge gamble, she told them, but she had to try.

“I thought for a long time, Godric, that you were going to turn me. I know you were thinking about it and I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

Eric looked at his maker, wide-eyed. This was certainly news to him.

“This course of action was the only way to stop him and save us. Neither of you were going to be able do it. And Marduk wanted to be released from his madness. I gathered everything I could from his mind – information about the bloodline, your maker, the madness, our history. In the blood he instantly knew I was a prophetess. He understood my intentions and he consented – verbally. He also sensed your blood in my veins and realized you were his bloodkin. And when it was time, he thanked me and blessed me and he left the world in peace.”

Godric didn’t move. He looked like he was about to cry. He was silent for a very long time. “You did the right thing, Lillian. It was a hard thing, but the right thing. You risked yourself and sacrificed much. I see that now. I do not begrudge you for taking the knowledge of my tragedies and turning them into your – all of our – saving grace. Because it did do something profound for me.”

“But the ash. I still don’t understand,” Eric said.

“It was all of our blood in her system,” Godric grumbled, annoyed to be interrupted. “The blood knows its own. She was already part of our bloodline and was becoming more so with each draft from Marduk, so when he was drained…well, that same strange death happened to him as my maker.

“There is something I need to share,” Godric said in a softer tone. “It must have been the moment he died. I collapsed seeing a blinding white light and was overcome with a sense of peace and joy. The darkness that exploded around are bloodline on that…that day I committed heresy. It has haunted me as a constant reminder that my bond with my maker was broken and that I then shattered it completely. You healed our bloodline, Lillian. You healed me too, from the pain it has always caused me. It is odd to feel you upstream in the line and yet also equal to me as my fully blood bonded mate, but you brought the light back in. You truly are my moonbeam.”

Eric smiled. “Perhaps you are not a Lila after all. Maybe I should call you  _Ljusbringaren_  [The Lightbringer].”

Godric huffed a laugh. “A good honorific title. But what of your vampire surname?”

“I promised I would honor him. Got your tablet handy, Godric?”

He hunted it down and Lillian tapped at it for nearly 10 minutes, searching through a phonetic Babylonian dictionary.

“Mmm. Couple options. Lillian Martu-ina-bel, which means ‘daughter of Bel’. Or simply, Beltu Lillian, Lady Lillian – kind of like you, Goh, no surname. I like it. It’s simple.”

“I finally just took Northman,” he looked at his son and rolled his eyes.

She passed back his tablet.

“I learned something else important while we were in the blood. It’s going to be a real stunner, she warned. “Marduk had the fire gift.”

The look on their faces was one of pure shock.

“Goh, if the fire gift is in our bloodline…Do you have it and just kept it secret?” Eric asked in awe.

He shook his head. “I’ve felt something a few times. Like a strange warmth that I wanted to push out of me. But no. If that is it, it’s not developed yet. It could be a powerful weapon if wielded with restraint.”

“Lily, do you still have the vision?” Eric whispered.

She gave a sly grin.

“Holy shit,” he exclaimed.

Godric frowned. “We’re going to have to keep that one very closely guarded. You could still be used.”

“Yeah, but in about 200 years, I will be strong enough to use it to court the favor of powerful vampires and they will flock from every corner of the earth, heaping riches at my feet for the honor of my predictions. You think you have money now?” She eyed Eric. “You’re not even going to know what to do with the amount of wealth I will bring into our family’s coffers. There aren’t enough cars, planes, ships, tracts of land to buy, fashion week collections, or shoes that could put a dent in whatever squirrely accounts you keep.”

Godric hummed in thought. “We do not speak of the fire gift to anyone beyond our own blood. We will never reveal that Marduk was in our bloodline; we would be shunned for all time with a black stain of shame upon our house. We will withhold the truth about Lillian’s visions until she tells us otherwise. And above all, we will not EVER speak of the nature of her turning. Eric, as your maker I command it.” He took Lillian by the shoulders. “Same password?” he asked.

“Sure. Keeps it easy.”

Godric glamoured her hard with the same order.

“We will say I turned her. People will buy it. I’m ancient and haven’t made another child in over a millennium.”

“Then I am secretly Beltu Lillian in honor of my maker, but for the rest of the world I am now Lillian  _Goðrìksdottir.”_

 _“_ _Lílían Goðrìksdottir, Ljusbringaren._ _”_ Eric corrected with a smirk. _“_ And you can be a Northman on paper too, if you want.” Lillian reached over and whacked him on the thigh. He just howled in laughter.

“Goði?” she asked.

Godric was momentarily stunned to hear Lillian use Eric’s nickname for him in Old Norse. It pleased him greatly.

“Please tell me that you still have that old oracle’s charm somewhere – the one that absorbs one’s powers?”

Godric gave a secretive smile. “I do. It is at just south of here at my cabin in Lunsen. I nearly came back before so I could give it to you as a token of my affection. It seemed like a new Pythia ought to have it. But now you are  _definitely_ are going to need it. We can retrieve it tomorrow.”

“Ooh! Can I see the restaurant and meet Magnus?”

“Probably not a good idea just yet, sweetheart. You’re a baby vampire and I really need my chef alive.”

“Ah. Good point. Well, I know you’re probably both antsy to ask more questions. I say we all curl up in bed with a nice fire and talk about all this ancient history under the covers.”

“That does sound like a pleasant way to hear revelations,” Eric said, waggling his eyebrows. “Race you to the bedroom!

“Oh the ways we will race through the fabric of time.”

“Go!” he shouted and sped off.


	29. Epilogue - Ouroboros

A nighttime fog settled in the forests of Lunsen, blanketing the mosses and spongy leafbed with a dense, misty quiet. From a distance, Godric's cabin was modest and unobtrusive – a garden gnome's den sprouted out of the ground. It was meticulously crafted. Godric had hewn the beams of the cabin and hung each pane and shingle himself. Every piece of furniture had been carved by his own talented hands. It appeared no less lovingly made than one of Eric's homes, fashioned with the same unhurried precision of an immortal. But it was nothing like the flashy glass temples and stone fortresses Eric built. This was not a home. It was a weapon.

The cabin and its surrounds were heavily warded. Curious humans wandering from the restaurant at the bottom of the hill or hikers straying from the forest's paths would retreat from the place in apprehension. Crossing the wards, the rustic house suddenly turned ghostly and hostile. For a vampire, there was no need to come so near. The cabin was clearly possessed. It screamed a death threat, as though it might dismember itself and launch bodily at an intruder in a volley of a thousand stakes. Only those few allowed to pass inside would experience the cabin as it truly was: a sentinel house which protected its occupants with a terrible magic. Eric never asked how or where Godric came by the spells he sometimes had placed on his homes – and Godric certainly did not offer to elaborate.

Inside, Lillian and Godric were sheltered momentarily from the world. The resinous logs in the hearth popped and hissed, and the flames danced on their coals in languid rhythms. Lillian toyed with the gold circlet on the chain around her neck. Pythia's charm worked, Godric had assured her. Her aura appeared tender and green, as a newborn's should. Without the charm, other vampires would sense something dreadfully ancient and foreboding about her. The only other vampire in possession of such a terrifying countenance sat across from her, watching her intently. Godric was perfectly still save for the leaping fire reflecting in his gaze. He waited patiently. It was a silence that demanded answers.

Lillian felt no urgency to respond. They could talk tonight. Or in a decade. But judging by the look in Godric's eyes, probably tonight. Lillian marveled at the play of the firelight on his skin. It limned his sharp features in shadow and gold. How dreadful the invention of electric light must have been for their kind. She preferred the night like this – a world lit only by fire.

Lillian thought at first that the pulsing, colorful movement all around her would lessen as she grew accustomed to her reborn senses. It did not. The world constantly threatened to mesmerize her with its beauty. Every animal and plant and rock burst with some kind of wondrous energy. 'Can all supernatural creatures see this?' she had asked. 'No,' Godric had replied. Not even the witches and fae folk who could manipulate these lively forces could see them as vampires did, he had explained. One had to be undead to truly apprehend what was alive.

The night before, Lillian had been too overwhelmed initially to register the sensations coursing through her. Only when she had gone to make love did she understand. In the master suite of the Cave House, she let her newly undead hands wander over Godric's bare chest and she startled at the electric shock that passed through her. She very nearly dropped to the ground when Eric kissed the secret place on the back of her neck. Their touch and breath, each sigh, every cresting wave of pleasure – it was a communion.

The sparks between their bodies were not just bundles of nerves and cells communicating as brute matter collided in empty space. They were sharing magic particles, giving and taking and thriving off an elemental, universal force. The heat of their cocks inside her, lips on hers, nipples caught between teeth, the wetness of lust between legs and the elixir of blood sliding down her throat – all of it was magic energy. 'My god,' Lillian had said. 'There's a kernel of truth in the myth.' Vampires did deal in energy. They positively thrived upon it. And though the trio had wiled away many more hours in bed, delighting in each others' flesh, Lillian knew it could not all be pleasure. She would have to confront her new nature.

During the drive to Lunsen Forest, she had hounded Godric with a hundred questions. "We are not gods," Godric had insisted, his knuckles tightening on the steering wheel. He took a corner far too fast, as if to prove a point. Her body had known, bone-deep, that she was in no danger. "But vampires are frighteningly god-like," he had added. Her mind had whirred in consideration.

"How do witches make magic?" she had asked.

Godric was not flapped by her non-sequitur. In fact, he had appeared to have anticipated it. "They don't. Witch, fairy, or elven magicks- it doesn't matter. They borrow elemental energy."

"Does it weaken them?"

"Of course. Or it kills them."

"They die if they try to take too much power," she had confirmed.

"They always die, Lillian, in the end. They are mortal, as is their hold on energy." His tone was grim. They had driven the rest of the way in silence.

In the quiet of the cabin, Lillian revisited these conversations, mining her thoughts with a newfound acuity that could scarce be believed.

In the wheel of life, all creatures, even magical ones, were subject to death. All except vampires. They lived untouched by this one hard and fast rule, and they spun the wheel of life as they pleased. For those enchanted beings inside the system, there were consequences to disrupting the balance of life. Not so with vampires. Disruption was their power.

Like card sharps at the poker table, vampires reshuffled vital energy unequally in their favor. Where others borrowed it, they took it outright. Drinking draughts of human blood strengthened them over time. Draining humans completely and swallowing their deaths grew a vampire's powers faster. Everyone had conveniently failed to mention that ugly detail until after her rebirth. Eric worried about Lillian's unwillingness to kill. Today's newborn vampires were far weaker for abstaining from the 'true' hunt, he had told her. Godric and he had both fed her at length in addition to the donor blood she had consumed. While it did not provide nutrition, the blood of her kin would enhance her supernatural gifts far faster than a human kill. Normally, the practice was hampered by all sorts of in-built restrictions. Age determined strength, first and foremost, and no youngling could take what was not offered. Except, in her case...

Godric watched as full realization unfolded on her features. He could feel her shock ricochet in their bond. He tilted his head a fraction, as if to say, 'See?'

Lillian hadn't just eaten of the undead. She had devoured her maker's death whole.

The full implications of Lillian's actions struck her in a sudden, staggering blow. Godric might have told her what he had done to his maker, but nothing he had said could have prepared her for what it  _meant_.

Godric's calm demeanor was practiced. "Take it off," he finally said, gesturing to her necklace. Lillian set the necklace with the ouroboros charm on a side table. Godric's gaze flickered over her silhouette. The dark cloud that bloomed around her threatened to overtake the room. Between his own aura and hers, the walls shivered in resistance against the power radiating off the two vampires.

"Is it worse than yours?" she asked.

"I cannot be certain." Godric was not one to equivocate. There was simply no way for him to know. Ordinary mirrors did not reflect magic. Neither could see their own auras. They took turns describing what they saw to each other.

They debated the contrasting shades of black and silver at the edges of the void where a normal aura should be. The extreme age difference between them was complicated by the fact that Lillian's maker had been far, far more ancient than Godric's - and an older blood brother of Godric's maker to boot. But then, it stood to reason, Godric had taken Gaël's life much later in his undeath; Lillian had taken Marduk on the threshold of her rebirth. Perhaps that made a difference, though what difference neither could say. Confounding matters further, Lillian was bonded to Godric and had his blood within her when she had lured Marduk to his doom.

The calculus of millennia and blood ties entangled and crisscrossed was dizzying. Ultimately, it was pointless. Both had committed this act. To eat of one's own magic was unnatural enough. To take from one's older kin nearly impossible, as Godric had discovered. It took incredible discipline and power to coerce a fledgling to feed off his maker. But to pervert the supernatural order of things and eat the death of Undeath?

Wild, unchecked power coursed through Lillian's body. She possessed every one of Marduk's powers. Undiluted. Without time to give her wisdom and patience to still her hand. Without a maker to harness her. And the secret knowledge that she could destroy any of her bloodkin in the same way to steal their powers filled her with more shame than she had ever known.

"Eric doesn't know, does he." Lillian said. The raw glimmer of horror in Godric's glassy eyes confirmed it. Like her, the foundation of Godric's extraordinary powers had been stolen, not earned.

"He suspects I gained my maker's powers on that accursed night, but he doesn't understand. No one could."

"He thinks this is beautiful." She had heard Eric call Godric his 'dark angel'. He spoke of her newly acquired 'black halo' with unveiled admiration.

Godric bit the inside of his cheek. "Eric doesn't question the value of power, only the judgement of those who use it poorly. He has only ever known me like this. That you are this way now too does not seem so strange."

"It should," she said. "You must promise to end me if I become a danger to others."

"I promise to train you."

"That's not what I asked."

When Godric did not reply, Lillian reached across the gap between their chairs and took his hand. "Can you ever forgive me?"

He huffed. "That is not the right question, I think. You taught me to ask whether you can ever forgive yourself."

"I would do it again. Without question. It was the only way."

Godric gave a resigned nod and thought for a long moment. "You chose this burden. If it is any consolation, I will bear it with you."

The compassion in his voice and the promise of his full lips ignited a flame of desire in her belly and she wanted to slide into his lap. Yet the sadness lingering in his words stilled her. "Godric, my love. You do know that you are my sire in every way that matters but one. We were meant to be this way."

Godric's mouth stretched into a tense line. Lillian withdrew her hand. The tension that flowed from his fingertips was unpleasant. He met her gaze with an unflinching stare. "I was making preparations to turn you."

She swallowed needlessly, a residual human tic. "I know."

"You saw."

"Yes," she said quietly. "We will need to keep your oathing knife close. It may be needed." The oathing knife Godric had used when they bonded was no ordinary dagger. Already feeling the undeniable maker's call toward her, he had recorded their three-way tie in the seams of its fae steel as a sacred memento. It should have been a prelude to a far greater tie, used in her turning. Now, Lillian intended to use the knife dishonestly. Presented to other supes, the legitimacy of Lillian's claimed parentage would be nearly impossible to dispute.

"You took something from me," Godric said. His voice was low and dangerous. "You have denied me the experience of being your maker."

"Not exactly. I denied you the experience of turning me."

"Don't mince words with me. Have you any idea how irreplaceable that was?"

Tears stung at the corner of Lillian's eyes."More irreplaceable than Eric? Turning me would have destroyed your relationship with him. I denied you the agony of losing Eric. I dare you to tell me I was wrong."

"Truly?" Godric said, astonished.

"He is an only child, Godric. He will always be. Having a true sibling would have driven him away, mad with jealousy. You couldn't bear watching him move on unhappily without you. You would have ended yourself in the rising sun."

"Gods…And Eric would have killed you for it," Godric said, connecting the dots.

"Exactly."

Godric's shock was palpable. "I guess my days as a maker are truly over."

Lillian laughed softly. "As if. Your work with that Viking will never be finished."

Said Viking was presently prowling the streets of Uppsala, handling business that required electricity and a reliable internet connection, neither of which Godric's remote cabin possessed. At the moment, Lillian was grateful for his absence.

"You say you'll help me bear the burden of Marduk's death," she said.

"Perhaps I should have said 'stigma'. You will be feared and worshiped in equal measure, impossibly so when your gift of foresight is known."

"But I won't be alone."

"No. Not alone. That I promise you."

Lillian shifted in her chair, another human movement in a decidedly inhuman body. "Whatever it is that makes us who we are, the being that chooses how to be and how to use what it is…"

"The soul," Godric supplied.

"Yes, I suppose. The identity that contains and drives our magic. Call it a 'soul' if you like. You should know that all of the bits of Marduk's makeup are still right here. All his strength and his memories - but none of his will. None of his impulses or desires or madness. Marduk himself has dissipated. His energies are content to be  _me_. His soul was tired and sickly and now it is released."

Godric furrowed his brow. "You think he is free."

"Yes. Free and yet not lost. And that  _is_ beautiful."

Godric's psychic bond to his maker had not been formed correctly. He had never been able to communicate with Gaël. All these years Godric lived with the shattered remnants of Gaël's broken memory. Only rarely did one of the indecipherable shards Godric had inherited from him suddenly make sense. The onslaught of information revealed in the blood was something most makers jealously controlled. It was why so few willingly shared theirs.

Lillian, with an imperiousness so breathtaking she rivaled Eric in her high-handedness, had demanded that Marduk mentally narrate the torrent of memories they shared when he turned her. She did not intend to have a maker around who could explain things later on, nor did she intend to be born in total ignorance. Marduk had given her a framework to interpret the legacy she carried in her blood. And what a fearsome legacy it was.

"You feel none of his emotions then?" Godric asked.

"None at all. But I know how I feel about him. About the parts that were noble and good, at least. About the beautiful things he created. About how he saw me."

"You love him."

"Of course," she said simply. "We are their guardians, Godric. They could have fought it had they wanted to. But they gave us everything they were instead."

Godric ran a hand over his breastbone. "Gaël," he whispered almost inaudibly. He almost never uttered the name aloud. It sounded foreign in his mouth. He blinked back tears and smiled. "We can save each other then."

"Yes, I suppose we can."

"You must try, if ever such a horrible day comes. You must salvage all that is Eric. Don't let him dissipate into the ether."

"Jesus Christ, Godric. Eat of my kin again?"

"Yes!" Godric popped up in his chair and folded his legs under himself in excitement. "We must all promise to save each other if at all possible. I had never imagined such a thing."

"Because it's wrong," Lillian said.

"Oh, yes. It's unnatural and completely brilliant!"

"It probably counts as incest, or at least cannibalism."

"Oh, forget your silly human concepts. You do realize your discipline is wholly unsuited to capture our social lives, don't you? Anthropology is for  _anthropos_. But we aren't human, are we, darling. Give it up. You'll have to come up with a whole new field."

Lillian nearly choked. "You might have said something earlier if you thought I was so far off track."

"Nevermind that. Lily, you've discovered a marvelous thing. We can be truly immortal in each other!"

Godric was so overjoyed that he swept Lillian into his arms and began waltzing her in wide circles through the den. His touch set her ablaze and he licked any final protest on the matter from her mouth. He kissed her deeply, growling as his hands ran over her preternatural curves. "Gods, you must be the most dangerous vampire alive. Is it wrong how much that turns me on?"

"Definitely," she said and nipped his bottom lip.

"I'm going to devour you, woman."

"Do," she said. Lillian took a careful step backwards, breathing heavily. She pulled open her wrap dress and traced a line down her chest over her heart. "Drink."

The invitation sobered Godric immediately. "Your heart vein. Lily, we don't offer that lightly."

"Oh, I know." There was no secret a vampire could hide there. Godric would know all her dreams and fears. Nowhere did the font of blood speak so clearly. Nestled in the ribcage, it was blood that could only be given freely. A vampire attempting to feed there risked having his fangs snapped off on a preternatural rib. It was the ultimate act of trust.

"Are you sure?" Godric asked. "Eric was yours first."

"And he'll have his turn too. But you're the one who has volunteered to claim me as your progeny. You're the one who will shoulder the responsibility of my missteps. Who will answer as my maker. I couldn't let you turn me, Godric, but you can still be my maker. You have an eternity to choose me as yours, over and over again, and do right by me. If you want."

Godric blinked heavily several times as he realized why she was offering to feed him from a most sacred place. Adopting Lillian was a chance to make up for every unspeakable thing that monster Appius had done to him. To be better. To give a vulnerable, makerless newborn the opportunities he was denied. Lillian watched a series of emotions flicker over Godric's face before the centuries of wariness slipped from it completely. He looked like the boy he had been millennia ago, abandoned and helpless. He was neither alone nor helpless any longer. Godric stifled a sob of joy with the back of his wrist.

"Drink my heart's blood and know me as yours," Lillian said.

In an instant, he had Lillian in his grasp. "You would give yourself to me?" he asked huskily.

"If you'll have me."

"Will you walk the endless nights with me, by my side?"

"Always." Godric scented her deeply, running his nose over the delicate curve of her chin. He guided her down to the rug beneath them and stroked the spot over her heart. She had seen a version of this when he hoped to turn her. There were words that mattered to him, words he needed to hear. "I will be your mother, your sister, your daughter."

A heartbreaking smile spread across his face. "And I your father, brother, and son. We will make each other, Lily, as equals. We will be all things to each other."

"I love you," she whispered. Godric's fangs slid between the narrow reach of the ribs over her heart and he cried out. He gave her a wrist and Lillian felt him melt when she bit. She cradled his head and closed her eyes as the truth of her poured forth. In the perfect union of their bond, they were one, and as one, they knew only unending faith and love.

~OOO~

The cabin hummed, letting the lovers know someone had crossed the ward perimeter. Eric found the two curled up in front of the fire. He set down a large brown paper bag. It gave a telltale slosh. Dinner.

Lillian leapt into Eric's arms and stole a long kiss from him. "Mmm, hello lover," he said. "You smell delicious." He carried her to an armchair and plopped down with her in his lap.

"Did you get things squared away with Sophie-Anne?" she said.

"Everything is peachy. She and de Castro agreed to issue edicts on Victor Madden and that fool Compton. I expect they'll be apprehended within the week."

Lillian let out a sigh of relief. Condemning two vampires had not been easy, but between her own visions of how they planned to harm her and the shady histories Eric and Godric recounted, they were dangerous loose ends.

"And Pamela?" Godric prompted.

"It turns out she likes Minnesota a lot more now that she's in charge," Eric said. He had not liked lying to his progeny about Lillian's transformation, but it was a necessary evil. "She sends her congratulations to you both. She was surprised, to say the least."

"I am overjoyed to find myself a maker again after so long." Godric said. Eric studied his maker carefully. Godric spoke earnestly. The gloominess that had hung about him since the bombshell news of Lillian's turning had lifted completely.

"How are Greysolon's orphans?" Lillian said.

Eric glanced at Godric. "They are faring well. The response from the community has been positive. Most have already been placed with a foster elder."

"Wonderful," Godric said, kicking his feet up on a stool. "What, Eric?" he said, seeing his child's skepticism. Eric started to say something but Godric cut him off. "Am I not allowed to change my mind? I view the matter of adoption rather differently now that I find myself on the other end of it. Be happy for me."

The joy flooding their bonds was undeniable. Eric laughed in amazement. "Your happiness is mine."

"Once Pamela feels things have stabilized, she should visit us for a long weekend while we are still in Sweden," Godric said.

"Are you going somewhere?" Eric asked.

" _We_  are going somewhere," Lillian said, tucking a strand of Eric's hair behind his ear.

"Where's that, my little Oracle?"

"Egypt."

Eric crooked an eyebrow. "Our beloved comes to us with an inheritance, it would seem," Godric said.

"Oh shush, Godric, it's not mine. Not really," Lillian said.

"Don't tell me. Marduk had a horde?" Eric said, his interest immediately piqued.

"Marduk's priests smuggled his treasure out of Babylon when it fell. He showed me how to find it. But that's the least of it. There is so much more in his memories – potential archaeology sites throughout the ancient world that can be excavated." Her excitement was infectious.

"I see you already have your next project worked out." Eric smirked.

"Absolutely. I've got to keep busy somehow now that all I have is time." Lillian hopped up and took Eric's large hands in hers. "Come on. Let's go back to the Cave House. I'll tell you all about it in the car."

Godric snuffed out the fire with a bucket of sand and Lillian put her necklace back on. Eric's eyes wandered over pendant nestled between her breasts. The sight made his fangs drop. Traces of her blood were dried on her skin.

"Eric, remember how I dreamt that you made love to me under the northern lights?" she asked.

"I do."

"How about we make that dream a memory?"

He hummed and licked his lips. "On one condition." He hovered over her for a long moment before dropping to one knee.

Lillian searched his face. "What's this?"

"Will you share a dream of mine?" He bit his lip, anxious and full of raw hope. "Maker has accepted you as his progeny. He will give you more than you can possibly imagine. Words cannot express how great a gift this is and how happy I am for you. Let me give you something I've never offered any but him. When we get back to the Cave House, when we're lying together on the sacred ground where we both rose vampire, take my heart's blood, my bonded, and know that I am yours. Be mine."

Lillian blinked back crimson tears. She fell into his arms and kissed him. "Yes, Eric, of course. I was going to offer the same."

"Yes?" he said with a fangy grin.

"Always yes," she murmured and found his mouth once more.

"Come on, you two. Let's get going or you'll end up consummating your vows right here," Godric said.

Eric hopped up and snatched the car keys from Godric. "Fine, but I'm driving." He was out the door in a blur.

Godric locked up the cabin and the three vampires slipped silently down the path through the woods. At the fork in the path, Lillian paused, looking longingly down the hill towards the restaurant. The sounds of human laughter and the smell of fresh, sweet blood filled the air. Godric had a firm hand on her wrist. "Another time. You are not eating my chef."

"I just want to -"

"No, Lily."

"You'll say yes."

"No, I most certainly -"

"Will." She winked and bumped him playfully with a hip. "Trust your oracle, old man."

Godric leaned over and nipped the secret spot behind her neck, making her flesh tingle in a shiver. He whispered into the shell of her ear. "You listen to your maker and we'll see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, amazing readers, for following me on this adventure. I hope you’ve enjoyed the journey. Much love, xx, Melusine


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